Here and now
by evil minded
Summary: AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet? Will they be able to start a friendship here and now, and will they allow this friendship to heal them? Thanks for reading this rather unusual story
1. The final part and a new begins, James

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997 or earlier

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet? Will they be able to start a friendship and will they allow this friendship to heal them?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

Well, I'm posting this one here out of boredom – and sentimentality, I fear – _and_ of course to confuse you a bit, so that you might have something to wrack your brains upon while I'm on vacation … however, it's a bit different from what I've written so far, hope you won't mind … it's the first thing I've ever written at all and it's the only thing I've ever written in German, and I've kept it from you so far because I thought it was pretty bad. I just can't write anything in German, and I haven't even translated the entire story yet, but well, I just felt that I had to get this one online now … hope you enjoy …

and well … special greets to Jean and Steve here, with this story, the two of you will know the reason while reading … like I said, I fear I might be a bit sentimental right now …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …

I only say – remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – _I am_ …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Here and now**

**December 2003**

It was just half past seven in the morning when he slowly steered the truck along the snow covered main road, left Caribou. Half past seven, seven thirty, and still he was tired.

No, if he thought closer about that, he wasn't really tired. Rather … not fully awake yet. That surely would be the better wording for the condition he was in, a little sleepy still.

And he still was cold.

Slowly he left the bright lights of the village behind, steered the truck deeper into the darkness of the Barren Grounds, deeper into the wilderness of North Canada, up, up to the north, while with a sigh he leaned forwards to fish for a cigarette from the package, while he at the same time wondered why time went by so slowly today. Half past seven and he felt as if he were on the road since hours already.

Well, of course he _was_.

He had left West Hamleton shortly before five after all. But that was just two and a half hours ago, two and a half hours which seemed like half an eternity to him, during which he however still had not become awake completely and with another sigh he took the lighter and lightened the cigarette, took a deep drag.

He would have to cover many more hours until he reached the middle store to sleep for the night after all.

Exhaling the smoke through his nose James sat upright, pressed his back against the backrest of the driver's seat and tried to loosen the stiff muscles on his back and neck a bit while his thoughts started wandering, drifting back into the past.

******Here and now**

**Chapter one – prologue **

**The final part and a new begins – James**

**June 1999**

For some strange reason his eyes were drawn to the surrounding woods over and over again, for some strange reason he felt himself forced to look into the direction of the north over and over again, even if he didn't understand why.

There was nothing – nothing except of the familiar grassland to the west side of his land, the fields to the east and the woods that formed a natural barrier between his land and the mountains in the north.

Nothing. There was nothing else.

And yet … slowly and with light steps a person strode out of the shadows the trees cast in the morning sun over the meadow behind the veranda and confused James lowered his head to one side for an inch or two, squinting his eyes a bit to see a bit better in the blinding light of the still rising sun. He shuddered for a moment, even if it wasn't really cold during this summer morning hours. Maybe he just was tired, he always was tired lately and he had been sitting out here for the entire night after all.

The person slowly, and with carefree and light steps walked over the grassland, walked over to him.

It was a man in his mid ages maybe, whose long, black, in the morning sun shining hair moved gently in the soft breeze.

But there was no breeze.

Blinking in confusion James gazed at the blue and cloudless sky for a moment, as if he had to visually assure himself that there really was no wind, no breeze, and yet, while he gazed back at the figure that approached him with those light steps – yes, his hair _really_ seemed to move in the wind, black hair that seemed to move softly, gently.

The figure was dressed in black Jeans and a black shirt which caused an eerie effect to the black hair and the pale skin. His face seemed harsh and demanding, severe and yet kind and now James recognized him at once.

Isaac.

His way of walking, his clothes, his facial expression, and the piercing gaze in the black eyes, severe and yet cheerful, it only could be Isaac.

But even if he seemed real to him, James nevertheless knew at once that he wasn't. He wouldn't be able to touch him, knew it only was a picture, a picture created within his mind – whatever reason for his mind seemed to feel the need for creating such a picture of Isaac, of his friend.

Because Isaac was dead.

And yet, the dark clad young man entered the veranda behind the house, took another step towards James, slowly, before he knelt down in front of him and his severe dark eyes seemed to pierce him. A few seconds he didn't say a word, but then he slowly started to smile, his severe, black eyes burning with a fire that was life itself, while his fingers seemed to touch James' face gently, and finally he softly started speaking with his always so calm and firm voice.

"It is not your time yet, my friend, I have seen it. One day we will meet again, this too I have seen. So get a grip at yourself!" The smile on Isaac's face seemed to become sad while the fire in those black eyes seemed to deepen with the request, with the demand. "Get a grip at yourself, so that we really _can_ meet again one day. And never forget, my friend, there is always hope. And – always know that you're not alone, there always will be a friend at your side."

He didn't really know what those words meant, what his friend wanted to tell him, but he didn't mind either, he didn't mind because for one fleeting moment he had his friend back, he had Isaac back, even if he knew that it was only – a picture, that it was only an image created in his mind, created by his mind, nothing real.

Because nothing could bring the dead back.

Once more Isaac smiled at him and then straightened and turned away, went back towards the shadowy forest as slowly as he had come – until he was gone. "Follow Severus, because he will guide you well, my friend." He heard the voice that became softer, still not understanding the meaning of the words. "Follow him, because one day he will bring you home."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Motionless Mark stood for a few moments beside James and watched how his young friend seemed to stumble over something within his mind, like so often lately, like always lately. James had changed, had changed so completely, he didn't understand it.

James Potter always had been strage, he knew the young man since his childhood after all, since he had arrived at West Hamleton with the Dursleys, his aunt and uncle, so many years ago, but it had become better with the years, when James had gotten older, especially after Isaac had come into James' life.

But now, after Isaac's death, James had died too, part of James had died, his mind, his will, his … his whatever had kept him alive and straight and sane, it had died together with Isaac and he didn't know how he could bring him back. Nor did he know how to get any answer out of him, never mind the question. James just kept him as fear away from him as possible, as he kept everyone as far away as possible, he doubted even that James had allowed _anyone_ here near his house for the past two years except of him, and him – James only allowed _him_ here because he was the sheriff, the guardian of the law who always found one or another reason to visit him.

He followed the young man's gaze to the north for a moment, to the woods that were cast in shadows, wondering what it was James was seeing. There was movement over there, wild animals that scurried over the line in front of the trees, a soft breeze that moved branches and – and shadows that seemed to move.

Shuddering he looked back at the young man who sat on the veranda still, gazing to the north.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

_"Follow Severus, because he will guide you well, my friend. Follow him, because one day he will bring you home."_

The whispering voice echoed within his mind, Isaac's soft and deep voice, calm and quiet, and James couldn't help but holding his breath for a moment, couldn't help but closing his eyes to keep control over his emotions, over himself. He repeated the words in his mind, trying to memorize that picture.

One last picture of Isaac, Isaac, how he had once known him. Without the blood that covered nearly the entire left side of his face, that ran in a deep red line over the pale chin and the just as pale neck, to finally mix together with the blood that trickled from the dark strands of hair to colour the grey shirt red, that stuck on his hands, his fingers, while he tried to keep his friend's body close, while he tried to keep his friend's body safe, while he tried to keep his friend's body alive.

He tried to soak up this picture desperately, like a sponge long dried out, as if he instinctively knew that his mind would depend on this, would depend on seeing an intact Isaac who stood in front of him, tall, who gave him strength and confidence, instead of the Isaac that lay in his arms, dying, that never again would be able to get him, James, upright, who never ever again would be there for him, who …

Damn, he _needed_ Isaac, always had needed him, he couldn't exist without him, and again, not for the first time during the past two years this realization seemed to hit him like a fist, seemed to choke him, seemed to rob his breath until he thought he would suffocate while the pain of the memories seemed to grip his chest in a vice-like grip at the same time.

"James?" He heard Mark asking with worry in his voice and with a sigh he opened his eyes to look into the worried blue eyes of his friend who watched him calmly. "How are you?" He heard the tall and robust Sheriff from West Hamleton asking.

Exhausted, was the first thing that came to James' mind. Strange, was the second. He couldn't describe his emotions, not even towards himself and surely he couldn't explain Mark how he felt. He only knew that something within him felt different than before, strange, without being able to explain how and why, and entirely helplessly he gazed back at Mark, unable to gave the man an answer.

He could feel that his friend didn't want to push him too much and suddenly he felt guilty, guilty because he kept him at arm length away from him, because he had kept him away as far as possible since months, since years.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_The final part and a new begins - Severus._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

Here too, I invite all you readers to partake in the house cup – just state your house in each review you are giving, never mind on which story, and I will add them to your house. The actual points will be listed at the end of any chapters …

At the present time it looks like this:

429 Points - Slytherin

384 Points - Gryffindor

378 Points - Ravenclaw

167 Points - Hufflepuff


	2. The final part and a new begins, Severus

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997 or earlier

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet? Will they be able to start a friendship and will they allow this friendship to heal them?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … thank you for reading – and reviewing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …

I only say – remind yourself of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – _I am_ …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Here and now**

**Chapter two **

**The final part and a new begins – Severus**

**June 1999**

"Severus?"

The soft voice of Jonathan that came from behind him nearly startled him out of his wits for a moment and worriedly he sat up straighter.

Had he really been so deeply lost in his thoughts that he had not noticed the presence of his friend? Slowly he turned in the armchair he was sitting in to blink at the man that was leaning against the door frame and when he noticed the worried gaze, just the one he had expected, he sighed with frustration.

"What is it, Jonathan?" He softly asked, his deep and velvet voice steady.

"That's the question I wanted to ask of you, Severus." The young man whose dark hair fell in long and carefully braided strands over broad shoulders and a strong back came closer a few steps, into the room and stopped beside Severus, gazing with his green eyes into the black ones. "You don't look too well."

Again Severus sighed. If he read the look he could see in the other man's eyes correctly, then he could be sure that his friend was indeed _very_ worried over him and that was something he didn't like. It was a clear proof that the bitterness and the frustration he felt were written in his face and he forced himself to show his usual blank mask to ease the other. But well, it was in vain. His friend knew him better than that and Severus could see that the worried shadows in Jonathan's eyes didn't vanish but rather deepened instead.

"Do not try to fool me, my friend, I know you better than that. You are not well." Jonathan's voice too was soft and slowly he sat onto the edge of the bed beside which the armchair Severus was sitting in stood, gently running his hand over the folds of Joshua's bed. "What has kept your thoughts busy so that you didn't hear my steps?"

"Am I that easy to read?" Severus asked, his tone of voice defeated, watching Jonathan's gentle movement and he remembered Joshua laying in this bed, sleeping innocently while he couldn't help huffing with a certain portion of sarcasm at the wording _'innocence'_ in combination with _Joshua_ – it did not really fit, even now – after his death …

"Well … yes, you are, my friend." Jonathan answered. "You know, since you've befriended our brother, you've been a guest too often and too long in this house and I can tell you, you have the same look in your eyes I've seen when Joshua had this foolish idea to climb the cliff at the northern border – and fell. I think I don't have to mention the broken arm."

Scowling Severus actually _did_ remember the incident, more clearly than ever, more clearly than he liked, remembering the idiot boy falling off that bloody cliff.

"Or the same look I've seen when Joshua managed to fall down the cascade." The other man continued. "In the midst of winter, I might add. Well, I think I don't have to mention the pneumonia either. Or the look I've seen when he had provoked this good fight with Jeremiah. Did I ever tell you that he drove him mad? I think, the end of it has been more than just a black eye. Or …" Here Jonathan stopped and leaned forwards a bit, watching Severus sharply. "The look I've seen in your eyes when Joshua started this game of hide and seek, just to suddenly jumping forth from behind nearly everything … _to startle you._ I still don't know how he managed it to hide _behind_ that cupboard."

Jonathan softly laughed when he remembered. "Oh yes, my friend, _that_ particular look has been a good one." He then added with a smirk at Severus who shook his head in frustration. And yet – he himself couldn't suppress a small smirk at the memory. He knew exactly what Jonathan was trying to do, namely to get his thoughts into a different direction, away from Joshua, but he refused to respond to that.

"You should have seen yourself back then." Jonathan said. "For more than a month you've run around with a bad-tempered expression on your face and no one had dared to get in your way. I guess even your house has lost more points than ever before and even _I _would have avoided stepping in front of you with anything else than good news – namely that Joshua had stopped his childish behaviour. Only Josh had not seemed to realize the mood you've been in and I still wonder, my dear friend, why has he stopped? You never told how you managed that and he too never told what you did." Jonathan now had a mischievous and questioning gaze in his eyes.

Severus nodded with his own smirk at the memory and his black eyes became unfocused while his thoughts drifted into the past, shaking his head barely visible at the memory.

**Winter 1985, January**

_"Never!" Joshua helplessly laughed while he shook the snow out of his wet hair._

_"Oh yes, you will!" Severus answered, trying his best to keep from laughing just as helplessly as was his young friend while Jeremiah followed them, entirely out of breath and holding his stomach while he shook with laugher. "You will, or I will tell your father what you have done."_

_"Oh no! You won't!" Joshua called out, laughing just the harder while he tried to get back his breath. "Wait, what have I done?"_

_"You know very well what you have done." Severus answered with a nearly shaking voice while he tried to keep his own laugher at bay that threatened to break free. Barely any child had managed to get him laughing, not even Draco and Draco was not only a small and foolish child, silly still, but his godson too._

_"I haven't done anything!" The fourteen year old managed to answer between his laugher, even if barely, holding his stomach just like his older brother. "And even if, you wouldn't dare!"_

_"Oh, but I am sure you have done one thing or another, young man, whatever it has been, and I will tell your father – except … you apologize."_

_"As I already told you, Severus, never! And stop trying to keep from laughing, that's even more funny than anything else!"_

_Well, that it was what broke the straw the Potions Master had been so desperately holding at and he couldn't help his laugher finally breaking free, deep and booming._

_"You better stop this behavior, you little imp!" He managed to growl despite his laughing, wondering how this young man managed to do what no one ever could – making him laugh, making him drop his mask and making him lower his shields, making him feel free, making him feeling alive._

_"I can't!" Joshua gasped. "That's just too … you're just too …" He tried to answer just when they heard a loud banging and clanking coming from the door behind them and when they turned they both could see Jeremiah, writhing on the floor, still holding his stomach and still trying to somehow catch his breath while tears were running down his face. He had lost his balance and had pulled the hat stand he had tried to grasp as a hold for support to the floor together with him. _

_Severus and Joshua both watched him as if they would see a fox kissing a rabbit and for a split second there was silence in the hall, aside from Jeremiah's desperate – and in vain – attempts to catch his breath, but then both started laughing again. Even Severus had tears in his eyes meanwhile and Joshua tried to reach an armchair near the fireplace before he would sink to the ground just like Jeremiah had. But he could feel how he slowly, bit by bit, lost his balance just as well._

_Douglas Vaughn, Joshua's father, and Edward his brother who had been talking in the hallway turned towards the unusual noise in the hall, watched the three boys – even if one couldn't really count Severus with his twenty-four years as a boy anymore, and neither Jeremiah – while they both shook their heads, gazing at each other worriedly. Apparently all three young men had lost their minds, and yet – the two elders smiled while they watched._

_Hopedale was a large farm with nearly thousand square miles of land to care for and it was far from the next village. Jeremiah and Jonathan as well as Joshua had been born here and they had been raised here at this farm in the knowledge that they would have to stand on their own two feet rather sooner than later._

_Of course the estate was large enough and of course the cattle trade brought enough money too so that since the very beginning enough men were working here, never mind in the stables or in the house. But that didn't mean that Douglas' sons didn't have to learn from their earliest childhood on how to work. The one did not exclude the other automatically._

_Their mother had died only days after Joshua's birth and the two twins, barely ten years old then, automatically had overtaken the role as a mother for the small bundle named Joshua, Jeremiah even more than Jonathan. Joshua himself, he'd had to learn soon to be independent, to stand up and not only against the paternalism of his two brothers._

_And Severus?_

_Severus had become something like a fourth son to him over the years, even if a much older son than his youngest the dark and rather harsh man had chosen as his friend, had long since not just been Joshua's friend and a guest in his house but part of this family. Just like his sons Severus too had not had a really easy childhood, had lost his mother too soon, when he had been in the worst age. Not a child anymore that one couldn't call to account but not grown up enough so that reason and consideration or patience could have formed his actions either._

_He had come here into this land after his father had died, whatever reason for he had left England in the first place back then. _

_However, he had gained the respect of the people here with his sarcasm and intelligence and with his need to help – in his own sometimes strange ways at least and even if he never would admit it to anyone, not even to himself, and he barely had been here when he had befriended the back then eight year old Joshua. And nothing and no one had been safe from the two of them since – even if it always had been Severus who had kept Joshua out of trouble, without success sometimes._

_Maybe that even had been the reason as to why Severus had befriend the ten years younger Joshua instead of the twins that were his age – his need to keep others safe. And Joshua really had been in desperate need of someone who kept him safe while Jeremiah and Jonathan had not had the time to keep Joshua out of trouble all the time as they had to work at the ranch as hard as everyone else. Not to mention that they had not had the nerve to always have an eye on their younger – and foolish – brother either._

_Yes, his sons had never had an easy life, neither in their childhood nor later in their youth when they had grown into, well, 'young men', and yet – there always had ruled care and love here at Hopedale, warmth and the knowledge that they all could depend on each other._

_And therefore Douglas didn't feel really disturbed or angry, now that the conversation with Edward had been so abruptly disrupted by the noise of the young men. He rather thought it was relieving, calming, the knowledge that within these halls ruled life, life in form of three young men who sometimes acted like small children. But they lived, his three, sometimes four sons._

_Shaking his head the Master of the house watched how Jeremiah went to the floor with laugher but he wasn't close enough to reach him in time. He however noticed that Joshua too lost his battle in keeping his balance, that he wouldn't manage reaching the armchair he aimed for in time before he too would find himself laying on the stone tiles and he approached his youngest son, took his arm and guided the young man that still stumbled with laugher to the armchair, helped him sitting down into the cushions while he still shook his head._

_When he finally sat, Joshua leaned his hands onto his knee, closed his eyes and again tried to calm himself. He took a few deep breathes and really managed to suppress his snickers, a bit at least._

_Severus and Jeremiah on the other hand laughed just the harder when they watched their friend and brother, who tried to reach the seat on unsteady feet, being guided by Hopedale's Master to the armchair by the fire. It was just too amusing, this particular sight._

_It took a few more minutes, but finally they all had calmed down, except of one snicker or another coming from Severus and Jeremiah and the fact that Joshua desperately avoided to look at those two while every now and then a twitching he barely was able to control ran over his face._

_Douglas stood in front of his sons and Severus, cast a quick glance towards Edward who once again shook his head worriedly as if he really were not sure that they hadn't lost their minds truly, and then he looked back at the boys._

_He just was about to ask "and what was that about?" but he changed his mind and kept silence, knowingly – the laugher only would have started again had he asked this particular question._

_A soft scream startled all present persons and they turned, to watch Hallelujah, the somewhat older housekeeper, standing in the door, a shocked, nearly horror-stricken expression on his face while desperately wringing his hands. _

_"Just look what you've done!" Hallelujah called out, pointing at the wet footprints on the floor. "The Lord will have your hides!"  
_

_At first they all kept silent and Joshua still avoided looking at anyone of them, but then he leaned his head into his hands and murmured to himself. "I haven't done anything!" And at this point Severus and Jeremiah started laughing again, causing Joshua to join them inevitably. _

_Douglas sighed deeply, shook his head once more and stepped towards his youngest son. _

_"I guess that I don't even want to know how this here has started." He said, but his son neither was able looking at him, nor giving an answer and again it took several minutes until the laugher had died down finally._

**June 1999**

When had that happened?

Oh, yes, it had been 1985, in winter, Severus remembered. Once more he quietly chuckled when he remembered this particular visit at Hopedale fourteen years ago and with some amusement he shook his head when he gazed back at Jonathan.

The other man with the perfectly shaved face had watched him closely. He had guessed that Severus too had remembered that particular afternoon and he had not disturbed his memory, just waiting until his friend's mind was back in the present.

"I have done nothing." Severus quietly murmured, not sure himself if he only repeated Joshua's words or if his words were an answer to Jonathan's question. But then he leaned back in his armchair and tiredly ran his hand over his face. He felt horrible, and again his thoughts wandered back into the past, back to his friend.

It was true, Joshua and he, Severus, they really had caused chaos that barely had been able to be mended afterwards, whenever they had been together – whereat Joshua normally had been the one who had caused the chaos, while he, Severus, always had been the one who had tried to mend the chaos, or at least to keep it as harmless as possible.

If he thought about it, then he couldn't help realizing that he since years had done nothing else than cleaning up after Joshua, even after he had gone back to England and Hogwarts, only visiting Hopedale for a weekend or another and during holidays, winter holidays as well as summer holidays.

Softly chuckling he nodded. Yes, but he had done it willingly. Joshua had been worth it and he couldn't have asked for a better friend despite the fact that Joshua had been ten years younger than him. He was thirty-nine after all, while Joshua had been twenty-nine.

Of course he had gone back to England at one point or another in his younger years, had started teaching at Hogwarts after Lily had died, but he always had come back here during his holidays, and with a huff he remembered one particular winter in 1990.

**Winter 1990, December**

_"Come here, Joshua. And you too, young man." Douglas ordered, first gazing at his son and then at Severus. "I would like to have a word with the two of you." He waited until both had taken a chair and sat opposite him, both, his nineteen year old son as well as his ten years older friend, the wrong way round, their arms leaning on the backrests of the chairs._

_He shook his head at that sight, sighed deeply and then gazed into both young men's eyes, into the green ones and into the black ones. "Now you listen to me, both of you. I fear that something bad will happen to you, I can feel it!"_

_"That's not hard to guess." Edward commented dryly, pointing with his chin twoards the two 'youngster'. "Just like always the moment the two of them are together."_

_"I knew that something was wrong the moment you let my behaviour slip during breakfast this morning." The nineteen year old Joshua Vaughn snickered. "Was a first time."_

_Douglas watched his son with a worried gaze. "That is not a joke, Joshua, and it neither is a game. I mean it. Something will happen. I don't know what, but I know that Severus and you, you are together and that alone is enough reason to worry. I just want you to be careful, both of you. Don't try one of your stupid stunts, no fights, no games, no challenges, no experiments with nothing and most of all – no hunts. That goes for you Severus as well as for my son."_

_"I am a Potions Master, Douglas." Severus answered with a barely suppressed smirk. "It is my job to experiment with … well, I mean, we of course won't do anything and are safe at Hopedale. Nothing will happen here and it is deepest winter. Hunting deer is no fun during winter anyway and even if we should go out, well, we always came back – in one shape or another at least. But always in one piece." He couldn't help adding with a smirk now._

_"And you think that sets my mind at ease, Severus? You will do as I say or I will lock you in your rooms during the entire winter holidays – in separated rooms, mind you."_

_Joshua didn't comment this time, just watching his father with a severe and thoughtful expression on his face, and finally he lowered his head in agreement. Douglas however was just halfway relieved while his eyes fixed those of Severus, expecting an answer from him as well._

_Severus smirked at his friend and then at the Master of the house while he too inclined his head in agreement. He knew that Douglas never would really lock them in their rooms, that he only was worried over them. _

_His father would have acted the same – with the exception that his father not only would have carried through with his threat but beat him senseless upon disobedience, and with the exception that his father would have not acted out of worry but because the simple fact that he, Severus, had been an unwelcomed freak to Tobias Snape. He however doubted that Joshua's father would really go through with his threat. _

_His smirk got even wider the moment he thought at Joshua and himself, locked up in different rooms. He had other means than using the doors after all if he so wished. _

_"Don't – even – think __– _ about it, wizard!" Douglas whispered with a raised eyebrow while he leaned forwards until their faces were only inches apart, as if he had read his thoughts. "And I will nail your windows up, too!"

**June 1999**

It hurt and Severus closed his eyes for a few seconds, wondering why he still was here, why he never had left Hopedale after … why he …

Yes, Douglas and his sons had known that he was a wizard, and – even if they were muggles, they had accepted it, had kept it secret, knowing of the consequences if word of this got out. But not even his being a wizard had been able to keep Joshua alive. Not even his being a Potions Master had kept Joshua alive.

The growing pain behind his temples had already threatened during the morning to get his head to explode but now they had reached new levels. Barely ever before had he had such headaches. He had them from time to time, but whenever that happened, he could take a pain reliever. He however refused doing so right now.

He also often remembered his friend, but never before had he gotten anything close to headaches from his memories. Not to mention that he never before had remembered Joshua as intensively as he did today. And nevertheless, his headaches became worse from minute to minute.

Sighing he took the glass of water that stood at the table in front of him. Maybe it would help to drink something, and with a frown he watched his hand that held the glass trembling. Frustrated he tried with all his might to suppress the trembling of his hand, and he closed his eyes for a few times to will away the pain behind his forehead, but it was to no avail. What was wrong with him, damn? His hands _never_ trembled.

_Never!_

Once more he saw Joshua's picture in his mind and suddenly there was something, just somewhere behind his awareness, definitely there but too far gone to grasp it, too far away than that he could have realized what exactly it was.

But then … shadows, there were shadows, shadows that came closer with each second that passed, followed by coldness, coldness that came closer, directly behind the shadows.

Tired.

He just was tired and all he wanted was going to sleep. Nearly two months had passed now since Joshua had been killed by the Carrow-brothers. Nearly two months during which he had wished that _he_ instead of his friend would have died. Nearly two months, during which he barely had eaten, during which he barely had slept.

And sleep was all he right now wished for while at the same time it was what he feared most, knowing the dreams that would come with sleep.

"Lay down." He heard Jonathan's soft voice, as if the other man had read his thoughts. "Lay down and sleep."

**Dreamsequence**

_He held his friend's bloodied body in his arms and when Joshua slowly looked up into his eyes his heart threatened to stop beating, when he saw the endless pain and the fear in the green eyes, while his friend flinched whenever he touched him._

_He felt anger, guilt and sorrow at the same time awakening within him and his angry gaze caused the young man to softly scream with fear, to try shoving himself away with trembling hands, but Severus pulled him back into his arms._

_"Lay still!" He softly ordered, his voice calm but still frightened. He had started to carefully rock his friend to and fro, most likely to not only calm the younger man but himself as well, but again Joshua fought against his grip so that Severus finally had trouble holding him without causing him further pain._

_It took some minutes, but finally the body in his arms relaxed and again he gazed into the green eyes while he tried to calm the trembling hands of his friend and he himself threatened to lose his composure. He knew that Joshua had no chance to survive, not this time, and he pressed his friend's body to his chest when the panic started to take hold in his mind._

___"Well, we always came back – in one shape or another at least. But always in one piece."_

___But not this time.  
_

_"Don't you dare dying, you damn, stubborn idiot!" He whispered, angrily for a moment. "Don't you dare even thinking of that!"_

_And yet … only a few seconds before the soft sirens were heard in the distance, before the steady flickering blue light pierced the darkness of the night the body in is arms collapsed, stopped the trembling and he pressed the motionless body even closer._

_"No!" He desperately whispered._

_"NO!" it was the only word he was able to form right now at that moment and he screamed it before he buried his face in the dark, long hair of his friend. He refused to release the smaller body, clung at him like at a safety line while the panic in his mind, in his chest increased until he threatened to drawn in it._

_Then, suddenly, a bloodied hand lifted itself and softly touched his cheeks …_

**End dreamsequence**

With a soft but startled scream Severus woke in his bed, his breath heavy and his face, his hair, everything was damp. With a trembling hand he rubbed his face, pressed his fingertips over his eyes for a moment.

Every night, since nearly two months, he had those dreams now. And every single night his friend died in his arms just to run his bloodied hand over his face later. He closed his eyes while he took a deep breath before slowly releasing it.

"Severus?"

He could hear the voices of Jonathan and Jeremiah and he was sure that they sounded confused and worried.

"Severus?"

"Severus, what's wrong?"

His head seemed to explode and everything was empty and cold. Dead.

And again … shadows, there were those shadows again that came closer each second, followed by the cold. And then death, death who followed the shadows closely on their heels.

Why not? Let them come! If this was his destination, then let them come! Why not?

He wasn't afraid, even if that little fact had him surprised. He was afraid of neither dying nor that what would follow behind. He would see Joshua again.

No, he wasn't afraid. He awaited death with a certain satisfaction.

And finally Severus was able to relax. The first time since … he didn't remember, but that wasn't important. Not anymore. There was nothing left within him, so – why should he fight against it?

And yet – something was there. A soft light, a small flame moved closer, became larger … larger and brighter, illuminated a person, illuminated the grey and rocky surface of a cave or something similar. It was a torch, a torch held by someone, by a man, a young man that stood with his back to him. He could recognize long, black hair that fell over broad shoulders, black hair that softly moved in the breeze.

_The someone slowly turned towards him and even before he lifted his head to look at him with his green eyes he recognized the young man that stood in front of him. He recognized him by the way he moved, by the way the long and black strands softly moved in the breeze and by the way the shoulders lifted and lowered themselves by each breath, regularly and calm, barely visible. _

_Joshua._

_It was Joshua._

_"I'm sorry, my friend." The younger man seemed to whisper. "Don't follow me. Go back, Severus, it is not your time yet. One day you will be needed. Go back as long as you can."_

_Needed? By whom? And when? And why? _

_He took a step towards his friend while he couldn't resist the tears that came to his eyes. He didn't want to go back. Here and now was Joshua, here and now was his friend, and so he wished to stay here and now. But the picture in front of him slowly started to fade._

_"Do not wish to stay here, you cannot stay here. I will need you. I will be lonely. I just don't know when yet. Promise me, my friend, will you be there for me whenever and wherever I will need you?"_

_Slowly Severus nodded. He didn't understand and he still didn't want to go back, he wanted to stay here, he wanted to touch his friend, wanted to be together with him, wanted to get into trouble because of him, just one more time. _

_And yet he nodded._

_Slowly the sad gaze in Joshua's green eyes changed and the younger man smiled, nearly happily, while he lowered his head to his left a bit and Severus could see the trust in the green eyes of his friend, knew that he had made the right decision. _

_"Then it will be alright. Then I can go and hope, hope that you one day will be there. I will wait for you, my friend." And with those fading words the picture slowly faded more, faded until it was gone and Severus stood there alone._

_He still didn't understand. And he would like to scream with frustration, but if his friend begged him to go back, then he would do just that. He would respect his friend's last wish. He would be there for him whenever and wherever he would be needed. He would not fail his friend, not this time. _

_Because Joshua trusted him._

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_The final part ends._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

429 Points - Slytherin

384 Points - Gryffindor

378 Points - Ravenclaw

167 Points - Hufflepuff


	3. the final part ends

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

Well, as you see, I'm back from Wacken, but we just got home and if you followed any news or internet reports, then you know that it was a very tough time with mud, rain, coldness, tents under water and most – ways where you could sink in six feet under – just imagine a muddy way that is wet enough so that the ground water can't deepen anymore and then 75.000 people walking over this road at least 4 to 6 times a day … ( on the other hand, my children had the best time in their life, they were allowed to play in mud without getting into trouble *lol ) … in other words, after ten days living under extreme conditions and then crossing Germany from the North to the South with a convoy of seven vehicles of which one was defect, the first thing I need is a long and hot bath, and directly after that, a warm, dry and soft bed …

I hope you do understand that I of course have not written another chapter, but only post another one of "here and now" as a fill-in, as those chapters I already have finished … thanks for your understanding …

I also was asked if I abandoned any of my other stories as I have published yet another one – the answer is: no, I won't abandone any of my other stories, they will be updated as soon as I have new chapters … this story here only will be updated on times when I have no new chapter to any other story due to either being in need of a holiday, due to actually having nice holidays or due to too much stress in RL … or due to NaNo that will come in three months of course, but well, after THAT you will get new reading stuff anyway …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Here and now**

**Chapter three **

**The final part ends**

**August 1999**

Not sure when he had closed them Severus slowly opened his eyes.

He didn't know if he had slept for just a few minutes or for a few hours, but it still was dark outside his window yet – but at least his headache was gone.

He remembered the worried voices of the twins, of Jonathan and Jeremiah, but now it was silent. He remembered that he'd had the same nightmare that had haunted him each and every single night since months now and finally he remembered the picture of his friend, of Joshua, standing there with the torch holding in his hand, illuminating the slender and black clad person, remembered his words.

_"I'm sorry, my friend. Don't follow me. Go back, Severus, it is not your time yet. One day you will be needed. Go back as long as you can."_

Needed? By whom? And when? And why?

Once more he wondered, frowning in the darkness, once more he asked those questions into the stillness, and once more, just like in his dream – or had it been a vision? Once more he didn't know an answer to those questions. So – if Joshua had intended to tell him something with his words, well, he hadn't understood this riddle. But well, he'd never been good with divination and he refused contacting Trelawny for any clarification!

_"Do not wish to stay here, you cannot stay here. I will need you. I will be lonely. I just don't know when yet. Promise me, my friend, will you be there for me whenever and wherever I will need you?"_

Slowly Severus nodded, just like he had done back then.

_"Then it will be alright. Then I can go and hope, hope that you one day will be there. I will wait for you, my friend."_

Damn, he had nodded, back then, and damn, again he had nodded right now, but immediately he shook his head in frustration before he placed his hands over his closed eyes. Damn!

How? How in Merlin's name, how was he to find Joshua? And where would he even start searching? Josh was dead! So how in Merlin's name would he ever need him anymore? And how should he, Severus, be able to help him? Let alone just find him? Neither did he understand nor did he find a solution to this riddle.

And he was scared.

He was scared of letting Josh down. He had seen the trust that had appeared in his friend's green eyes when he had nodded, when he had promised him with this nod that he would be there for him. And now the realization that he had promised him something, something that he would not be able to fulfil, it hit him full force. He felt helpless, and he felt as if he already had betrayed Josh, as if he already had failed him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He still lay in his bed, and still the room was dark and silent, and yet something had changed, something was different than before, was strange. He could feel it, he could feel it with each and every fibre of his body. Something was not the way it should have been and yet, he was not able to grasp it, was not able to realize what exactly it was and slowly he sat up in his bed, ran his hand over his face to get rid of the last remnants of sleep and to get rid of the tiredness – in just the moment he noticed a soft light that was flickering irregularly in front of his window.

He still was busy wondering what kind of light it might be that had woken him when he heard a strange sound.

Damn, _where_ was in Merlin's name he? And what was this idiotic light out there in front of his window about?

And again there was this sound, the short sequence of a melody that repeated itself in regular intervals.

And suddenly he knew.

His mobile.

He wasn't at Hopedale anymore, he wasn't even in Nevada anymore. Since nearly two months now he was stuck here in this blasted, godforsaken one-horse town and it hadn't been the flickering light that only was the defect advertising sing of that bloody motel he lived in which had woken him, but the ringing of his mobile.

Hastily he turned and fished for the bloody thing that lay on the nightstand to his right.

'_Edgar'_ he read on the display and frowning he answered the call.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Morning, sleepyhead." An amused voice answered. "You don't have a clue what time it is, do you?"

What time … damn!

Hastily Severus turned back to the nightstand grasped his wand and cast a quick tempus. Nearly six. Shit, he had overslept, and angrily he cursed under his breath.

"My apology." He finally said. "I will be down in a minute." And with those words he carelessly threw the mobile back onto the nightstand and quickly got up, slipped into his Jeans. It would have to do without a shower today and he cast a quick cleaning and refreshment charm over his clothes and himself. He slipped into his shirt and fixed his hair into the braid he was wearing since he lived here in the muggle world while he thought over the past two months.

How in Merlin's name he had managed to end up here he wasn't really able to explain, even if his life depended on it, but already a few days after he had arrived in West Hamleton he had searched for a job, but he hadn't been too lucky. It was a small valley, without any large firms and therefore there weren't much free jobs at all. He had asked the sheriff, Mark Santana, and _he_ had sent him to the sole garage here that was outside the small village a bit. He had said Norman always needed a helping hand, and there wasn't another job anyway.

Here, in this small one-horse town everyone had his job and every job was taken by the villagers of the small community after all.

Of course he could have brewed potions and sold them via owl, it wouldn't have been the first time he did this and he was a Potions Master after all, but brewing in a small muggle motel room that barely held space for a bed, a bedside table, a wardrobe and a small table with two chairs, that wasn't such a good idea really. He simply would have to work at the garage for a while until he had enough money together to rent a larger and more comfortable place – or until he was ready to go back to the wizarding world to get some money from Gringotts and exchange it into muggle money. But he wasn't ready for that yet.

He didn't even know why, he only knew that he had promised Joshua to be there.

He wasn't even sure if staying in the muggle world – and especially in this godforsaken village up here in Canada, Joshua's home had been near the border to South America after all and not up here – would help him at any way possible, but something told him that right now he was where he _had_ to be.

Well, he had to admit, he really got dirty hands with this job, but at the same time it was a job he could get off some steam, a job where he could do something, and the owner of the garage even had left him his old Cherokee – which he had to repair, yet again – what was the reason Edgar was picking him up for work today.

He slipped into his shoes and took his jacket, his keys and the mobile from the nightstand and then he left the dark room, hastily went down the stairs without even turning on the light and finally he left the building.

"Morning sleepyhead." A smirking face appeared directly in front of him and he scowled. "Slept well?"

"As it seems." Severus answered in a growl while he fell in step with the young, red haired man. "I apologize for keeping you waiting." Well, the promised minute had become nearly four in the end.

"No problem." the other man said, waving off the apology. "If my wife wouldn't wake me three times each morning, I would have lost my job a long time ago." The red head chuckled while leaving the house and approached his car.

Edgar had an old, blue Buick parking in the street in front of the motel and just like every time he saw it, Severus wasn't able to keep from shaking his head. The dark blue vehicle had a white car wing, a green bonnet and a red front passenger's door, a _demolished_ red front passenger's door. On the other hand, if he looked at the Buick closer, then he couldn't help noticing that not only the front passenger's door but the entire car was demolished, like an old tin bucket that had seen too many years, too many hands and too many fountain walls.

Quickly he got into the car and the young man started the engine, manoeuvred the Buick into the _morning traffic_ – what in West Hamleton, in the early morning hours shortly after eight meant, that they had the street nearly for themselves.

They drove down the Black Lane and at the crossroad Edgar turned right, drove along the Main Avenue that led out of the village, away from the lights and the … _main traffic_. It really was a small village and many of the people that lived here didn't even own a car.

There was a doctor in the Main Avenue – who _had_ a car – and a small lawyer office to the right of the doctor's house. And at the other side of the road, in an old, red brick house, there was a butcher directly beside the bakery where Severus bought a roll for dinner each evening. Down the road, nearly on the corner, was a small police station.

But there was another interesting place nearby. It was an old, brown house that was to the left of the bakery at the corner. It was the kindergarten. Severs never before had seen so many small, little monsters in one place and whenever he was nearby when the little monkeys were outside in the large garden, he stopped and watched them for a while, wondering if he ever would go back to Hogwarts.

Not that he missed teaching the lower grades, surely not, but he had to admit that he actually … _seemed_ … to miss teaching the upper grades, as much as it pained him to admit this. And he missed Hogwarts itself. And yet – he simply was not ready to go back to the wizarding world right now. Not yet, not so close after Joshua's death, not while he didn't know what to do with himself, not while he didn't know how to solve the riddle his friend had given him.

With a dark scowl he forced those thoughts back and focused onto the present.

At the town's boundaries the street went northwards and got shadowy. There were no lights anymore, no houses for nearly ten miles and the street was dark, dusty and went straight ahead.

He was quiet, only thinking. The street seemed endless this morning, as endless as his dream and he shuddered. Not really because of the cold, because it wasn't cold, but rather because of his tiredness, maybe even just because he had remembered his dream. Well, that wasn't hard, it had been the same one as last night after all, as every night actually. How could he not remember it?

Finally they seemed to slow down and Edgar steered the Buick through the gates of the garage, parked beside an old, red Jeep and Severus massaged his neck for a moment, ran his hand over his face for a moment, before he got off the car.

"Mornin' boys!" A corpulent, dark haired man, dressed in oil stained blue Jeans and a dark grey shirt came out of the small barrack, strolled calmly over the dusty yard and greeted them both, grinning all over his weather-worn face.

The sun had risen meanwhile and it was already warm, nearly hot. The dust and the heat beginning to lay heavily in the air and there was no breeze to cool it down a bit – and yet it was just shortly before nine.

"Good morning, Norman." Severus and Edgar answered, nearly at the same time.

"There isn't much to do today." The corpulent mechanic said with a thunderous voice. "Just a truck is here since the night. Broke down on the Highway with an empty battery, not far away from here, and James got it here. I think it's the generator."

Severus and Edgar both nodded and turned to have a look at the truck when Norman, the owner of the small garage, lifted his hands and watched them questioningly.

"Hey, what's with breakfast?" He asked appalled. "I don't know what's wrong with the two of you, but I just need – _breakfast_!"

Severus and Edgar looked at each other before they smirked because of the overdone panic in Norman's voice. Their _breakfast_ was a cup of coffee each morning, and a cigarette – or two – which Norman and Edgar – _enjoyed_ together. And so they followed him into the small barrack and into his office.

Norman went to the coffee maker and a few second later he turned back with three cups of coffee. One he reached towards Edgar and the other one at Severus before he seated himself into the chair behind his old desk, watching Edgar who sat down onto the heater and Severus who sat down onto the edge of the desk.

Severus' gaze went – just like every morning – towards the small metal sign that hung at the wall behind Norman.

'_Do you want to talk with the boss or with someone who knows his stuff?'_

And like always when reading it he wondered why in Merlin's name everyone thought they had to hang up old and dented metal signs that bore stupid slogans which everyone had read a thousands times already anyway.

"Well, Severus." Norman began, so seriously that he frowned at the man. "While we're speaking of James – you're still looking for a more comfortable abode than the motel? You said something 'bout … outside a bit?"

"Yes, I am still searching." Severus answered after he had taken a sip of the coffee. "Why?"

"As I said, James has brought the truck last night and we've spoken a bit. You know, since two years he has this small towing service, twenty-five miles down the highway. He has a large house and after …" Here Norman trailed off, hesitating a few seconds, but then, after he had gazed at Edgar who suddenly averted his eyes, he continued. "Well, since Isaac's death he lives alone out there. And so I thought that maybe you could move in with him, and … well, he'd said yes."

Once more Norman looked at Edgar – who looked shocked for a moment at this particular information, he noticed.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Taking a deep breath Norman hesitated for a few seconds before he finally sighed and continued watching the always black dressed man sharply. Why Snape thought he had to dress in black all the time, he didn't know, it was eerie. But well, the entire man was eerie, together with his harsh face and his always present scowl. The man simply was scary somehow and he knew – he would not wish meeting him in a dark corner in the middle of the night while being on his wrong side. But he was a reliable and hard working man that didn't shy from working overtime if necessary – and so he was glad that he had hired him.

"You know, Isaac has been a damn fine fellow. And, you see, you're not unlike him, Severus. And so I wasn't really sure at first if I really should ask James, but last night, well, I just asked and … well, after I have set it high onto the priority list, he has agreed. You know, you really should leave this tollhouse of a motel as soon as possible. Isn't good for your reputation and just that I've told James just as well."

After he had taken another sip of his coffee and grimaced at the hot brewing, Severus inclined his head to one side a bit.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice soft, watching Norman with a slightly raised eyebrow.

This time however Normal didn't answer, he just sighed. He didn't know if Severus wanted to know why he had asked James, why James lived alone, or why Isaac had died. And he didn't even know which answer he could have given Snape. This always so calm but harsh man was alright, yes, and nevertheless – Severus still was … a stranger.

And James? James was his friend, at least he once had _been_ something like that. In truth he hadn't seen James since two years, except of the rare and short occasions when he brought him a truck or any other jalopy he wasn't able to repair himself … or didn't _want_ to repair himself, whatever reason for.

However, Edgar made the decision for him, faced Severus.

"James and Isaac have been friends." He answered for Norman. "And I mean, really friends. For two years you never have seen one of them alone. They've been together wherever they went. Well, one day James has been gone, for weeks, for nearly two months actually. And then he'd had that accident. The whole thing has been evil, back then. He's been driving the old road over to the stone pit, and whatever reason for, he'd lost control over his car and fell down that cliff. Strange thing that was. You see, if one can drive a car, then it's James. And why he's been driving along _there_, no one except James knows. This road is closed for the open traffic since long … _it's dangerous_." The last words Edgar nearly whispered, maybe to give them some kind of meaning, and Severus frowned.

"However." The red haired man then continued. "James _has_ been there in this night and he fell down that cliff with his car. The car was stuck a few yards above the ground and Isaac has been the first who reached the place of the accident. Has pulled him out of the car. The car itself possibly has come free by that and fell down the reminder of the way to the ground, pulling Isaac with it, burying him beneath it. That at least is the _official_ version."

Here Edgar stopped, sighing himself now and he shook his head while he gazed at Norman who gazed back and nodded his head before he overtook the story, noticing Snape narrowing his eyes at the '_that at least is the official version' _from Edgar.

"Well, Severus, like Edgar said, when Isaac pulled James out of the car the jalopy fell down completely and pulled Isaac down into the depths and buried him." Norman's booming voice sounded sad now. "Isaac didn't survive this night. When Mark and the medics arrived they found James, badly injured, but not injured from the fall off that cliff. He rather seemed kind of beaten up, and beaten up badly, but no one knew why and James didn't answer any of their questions. However, they found James cradling the dead body of his friend, rocking him. They said, how James had gotten him from beneath the wreck, had been a riddle to them. However, somehow he'd _had_ managed. They'd tried to get him to let go of Isaac so that they could care for his injures, but he had refused to let go. They'd tried to talk to him, tried to pull Isaac from his arms, but ev'rything had been in vain. James had been clinging to his friend as if to a life-line. They'd said he'd cried the entire time."

Norman too had whispered his last words, looking at Severus sadly and a few seconds there was silence in the small office, a silence during which no one spoke, during which no sound was heard before he continued.

"When they had loaded them both into the ambulance car James had lost consciousness and so they finally had been able to separate the two and bring him to hospital. But since then, well, James has changed. Changed completely. He'd lost his memory, remembers nothing aside from Isaac. And some people think he's an idiot, think he's become cracked. Some people even are scared of him."

This time Normal slowly nodded when he went on speaking.

"I think, he's blaming himself for Isaac's death. During this night he has lost the only person he really had loved, the only person he ever had trusted. He never had told what really had happened, during this night out there in the stone pit. The only thing we knew was that the Hudson-Gang has been out there in this night as well. Mark has seen them coming from there. But they hadn't admitted to _that_, of course." Angrily Norman huffed. Of course they hadn't. "And James? _He_ hasn't told the police anything either. Several months he hadn't even been _able_ to give an answer to _anything_. And after he would've been able to? I think, he didn't care about the Hudsons anymore. He just lives his life out there now, alone."

"What kind of man is this James?" Severus asked sceptically. It wasn't that he had a too good relation to the name _'James'_ after all. Not to mention that somehow it did sound strange, the whole thing. And yet – it also sounded so very familiar.

"Like I said. He's living his own life out there, alone, he never invites someone, never accepts the help some people like Mark, Carrington or me offers, and with time some people really got scared of him. Back then he had opened his towing service." Norman said after a sad sigh and he frowned. If this James Noname was so important to them, then why had they not done more to help him? But then – he knew what grief could do to a person, knew that sometimes help was unwelcomed, and he took a deep breath himself.

"Look, Severus, he's kind to everyone and with his towing service he helps people, even if there are a few who can't pay him. Whenever there's an accident, or if one's car breaks down and James is there, and people say 'hey, I can't pay you', he simply waves them off, says that he can wait, that they hadn't to pay him yet. And after that, when everything is over, then he seems to forget about it. But I don't think that he really forgets. I think, he just knows that there are a few people that haven't much money. You see, James is a fine lad. He isn't barmy, just a bit mental. But I think he always has been a bit like that somehow."

Slowly Severus nodded, keeping his gaze at the floor while memories rushed through his own mind. He saw himself, cradling Joshua's dead body close in his arms, rocking him, while tears ran down his own face. And when he finally lifted his gaze, looked over at Norman and Edgar, they both could see the same sadness in the deep black eyes they so often could seen in James' green eyes. And both knew, the same had happened to the black haired and black dressed man that was sitting in front of them at the edge of the desk. There weren't any more words, there weren't any more words necessary.

But Norman knew, he had made the right decision when he had asked James about Severus moving in with him.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_The new part begins._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

439 Points - Slytherin

390 Points - Gryffindor

386 Points - Ravenclaw

169 Points - Hufflepuff


	4. the new part begins

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

also, well – seeing that we have summer holidays here in Germany, I don't have too much time, with fixing up the house, painting the rooms, with harvesting, gathering, then cutting and freezing or drying herbs (**_VERY_** important), and the children do demand my attention too – so, time for writing is rare at the moment and I haven't finished another chapter of _'a few days more'_ … you'll have to deal with a substitute chapter of _'here and now'_ :D …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Here and now**

**Chapter four **

**The new part begins**

**August 1999**

Slowly Severus steered the old Cherokee into the driveway and stopped near the front veranda, beside an old, black Voyager that was parked in the yard in front of the house. A trailer stood beside the other side of the car but otherwise the yard as well as the large driveway was a catastrophe. A few old wrecks stood there and between them lay wheels, old and dented car doors, a fender, an exhaust and other car – or motorbike – parts as well as tools and other things.

Looking around, shocked, he got off his own car, went towards the large house and slowly climbed the stairs towards the front door. When he reached it he hesitated for a split second. Maybe he shouldn't have come on a Sunday afternoon, but then he lifted his hand and knocked, determined.

There wasn't an answer, however, and after he had waited a few seconds he knocked a second time, but again there was no reaction from the inside of the house. Even while he stood there he still wondered if someone was at home at all, but the black Voyager didn't look like the other wrecks, it was registered. And Norman had sounded as if this person didn't leave his house often if not being called to an accident or a broken down car.

Not sure of what to do now he waited for another moment before he slowly and thoughtfully went down the stairs and then walked off to the back of the house after another moment of hesitation, looking around, still shocked. Merlin, even if he'd use _magic_, it would take him _days_ to clear up this mess.

Behind the house there was an even bigger chaos than in front of the building. Old cars ready for the junkyard, engines, wheels, an old motorbike, tools and other things were laying and standing everywhere and carefully Severus searched his way through the chaos until he reached the large veranda behind the house.

Hadn't Norman said this person had a towing service with a small garage? This here rather looked like a _junkyard_ to him than a garage.

Three stairs led to the wooden and canopied veranda that was surrounded with a wooden garden fence. On one of the wooden supporters hung an old oil lamp and he wondered if it was in use still, it looked a bit too old to him. To the left of the steps stood a large charcoal grill that clearly hadn't been used since a long time, Severus noticed with one quick glance. The grill itself was rusty and leaned against the wall of the house, forgotten. A large wooden table stood in the middle of the veranda with a garden bench and two wooden chairs surrounding it. And in one of those chairs, his back halfway towards him, was sitting a young man.

Open and long black hair fell over slender shoulders, and a black, sleeveless t-shirt covered a slender upper body. The young man was sitting in the wooden garden-chair, motionlessly, allowing the bright sun rays to warm his motionless figure, while he looked over the wide grassland behind the house, towards the edge of the nearby forest, lost deep in whatever thoughts, and he didn't notice the visitor that stood there for a few seconds, motionlessly, watching him for a second with narrowed eyes.

Once more Severus softly knocked, this time at the window that sat in the wall of the house to his right, but again he didn't receive an answer, the young man didn't react, and finally, after a few seconds more, he ascended the stairs and entered the large veranda.

"Excuse me." Severus quietly said with his deep voice.

He just as well could have screamed the words however, considering the reaction the young man finally showed. He flinched violently and even if Severus couldn't see his face, he could _feel_ the panic that seemed to rise in the other quicker than a rollercoaster. The young man's hands grasped the armrests of the chair tightly, the knuckles turning white with the effort while the thin form went straight with fright. But then he seemed to get back control over himself and slowly he relaxed, leaned back in the garden chair, his right hand running over his face for a moment. Severus lowered his head to the side a bit at this reaction.

"I apologize." He said, his voice calm and quiet. "It was not my intention to startle you. Are you … James?"

Just at this moment the young man finally turned towards him, looking up at Severus, and at the same moment the Potions Master thought he would choke, would choke to death, while his heart seemed to beat higher a bit just to stop completely after that.

Joshua.

Joshua was sitting there. Josh was sitting at this very veranda in a wooden chair.

He was sure that it was Josh, even if …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The warmth of the sun he was sitting in was doing wonders to his body and with a soft sigh James closed his eyes.

And yet, even in the warmth of the sun rays, he shivered. He had a headache, and he felt ill, his muscles felt as if he had done nothing else than lifting weights since days and he felt tired.

Exhausted and tired.

He had brought a book outside. Since weeks it had lain around and finally he had pulled himself together enough to take it to the veranda. But already after a few lines he had placed it back onto the table in front of him. His eyes had started to hurt while reading and his headaches hadn't gotten any better because of it either.

However, it didn't matter. He had gotten used to it. He had gotten used to this since the time he was a child and even though it had become better after Isaac … well, since two years his life was dark now. It was dark, and empty, and cold, had become strange to him somehow, had depleted him.

_He himself_ felt empty and cold. He felt like a stranger to himself, as if he would stand beside himself for ninety percent of the day, watching himself struggling to fight his way through his life.

His body couldn't find rest and his soul couldn't find peace. His spirit was empty and that what he vaguely remembered – it was so far away as if it had happened in another life. Or in another time, in another land, to a different person.

His existence seemed so meaningless, so pointless, and he simply felt restless while he at the same time wasn't able however to somehow go on. There was no peace for him and he knew, there _never_ would be peace for him either. Driven by his own inner restlessness his thoughts, his life seemed to stumble from one place, from one time, from one condition to the other without really reaching his destiny, without even _knowing_, without even sensing where his destiny lay, or what reason he had, while he lived with the knowledge that he never would reach that what he didn't even know.

**Flashback**

_Feeling numb, he couldn't feel the foot on the accelerator and he couldn't feel the hands that held the steering wheel either. His mind was a complete mess, filled with fear and horror, filled with doubt and hesitation, and he knew, the only hope he could find was in Isaac, the only one who could give him safety and faith, hope was Isaac. And therefore there was only one way to act right now, there was only one thing he, right now in this moment, could do, and he would do it. _

_He knew that the road was closed for the open traffic, and he also knew exactly that the road was dangerous, and yet – he didn't have a chance, there was no other way, because they had Isaac, because Isaac would die if he didn't … he shouldn't worry about the road, he knew, driving along this closed road should be the least of his troubles right now and he reather should pray to survive the night, but he rather didn't dare thinking of what would happen the moment he reached his destiny __… he better didn't think of what the Hudsons were capable of __… _

**End flashback**

Lost. That was all he knew and all he could think of yet. Isaac was lost. Dead. Gone. And all he could feel in his chest, in his head, was darkness and emptiness, coldness. His friend was dead, had died for him, had died because of him, had died to safe his goddamn life.

James was sitting at the veranda, near the fireplace down there on the lawn, and his eyes fixed the dancing flames while he allowed himself to get caught by them. He allowed his mind to lose itself in his thoughts, but not his heart to become warmed by the flames – and so his gaze strayed off every now and then, away from the flames and over to the edge of the nearby forest.

_Steps. _

_There were steps._

_Steps and voices._

_They were coming back._

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

James still was sitting there when the warming fire down in the garden, which he had started last night, had been burnt down long ago, had been replaced by the warming rays of the sun, and startled he flinched at the soft voice that came from behind.

He had been lost in his thoughts so deeply, he hadn't noticed the visitor and for a split second panic had started to overtake his control before he got angry.

He didn't expect visitors, he didn't _wish_ for visitors, and against his own will his hands grasped the armrests of the chair he was sitting in while for a split second he thought to hear the voices of the Hudsons again, thought to smell the mouldiness of the old, rotten hut. But then he regained control over himself, forced himself to relax when the voice spoke again.

"I apologize." A deep and velvet voice calmly said. "It was not my intention to startle you. Are you … James?" And finally he slowly turned to look at the visitor, nearly gasping.

Isaac.

That was the first thought that came to James' mind. It just _had_ to be Isaac, his stature, his face, even his hair and the eyes. Those eyes, Isaac's eyes, Isaac's gaze, his way to move, and his entire appearance. Isaac would look like this now, if he were still alive. Even his voice, this deep and velvet, soft and calm voice, it _had_ to be Isaac.

And yet, he wasn't, because Isaac was dead.

And this stranger most likely was just another imagination, just another illusion of his mind, like the one he'd had so often.

And again his gaze started to drift away, over to the edge of the forest, again his thoughts started drifting off into the past and he had to force himself back into reality before he would lose control again, before he would drift and float back and forth between time, space and whatever else.

Again he looked at the stranger and again he only could think one thing.

Isaac.

The older man always had been there, by his side, for years, but now – he wasn't alive anymore, wasn't here anymore to provide him with peace, wasn't here anymore to stand by his side like he always had done. Isaac was dead. He had died two years ago. He had died to save his goddam and worthless life, had died because of his – James' – stupidity.

It had been _his_ fault.

He always had handled impulsively, without thinking, without thinking about the results of his actions, and Isaac, Isaac had been the one who'd had to pay for it now. Not he. _He_ should have been the one dying. And again the pain of this particular thought hit him like a fist into the pit of his stomach, just like always during the past two years, and James lowered his head while he felt, _knew_, that he was damned since a long time, that he would have to pay one day.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

When the young man finally turned and his green eyes fell onto him, Severus nearly was hit by paralysis that even seemed to spread over to his lungs that resisted his need to breathe, that even seemed to spread over to his heart that suddenly refused to continue beating.

Only after what seemed to him like an eternity during which he thought he would suffocate, during which he thought his mind played a trick on him, he finally was able to take a deep breath, trying to get himself back under control, and his eyes fixed the young man while he had to keep himself from blinking stupidly a few times before they got soft and calm, before his entire face relaxed, the always present and harsh lines smoothing out.

Because he had found what he had come for …

Already in the first moment when the young man had sat up startled, even before he had turned, Severus rather had _felt_ than seen the picture of his friend appearing in front of his eyes. And then the young man _had_ turned, had looked at him, and the picture in his mind had left, had been replaced by one that was real, identical.

He was sure it was Joshua, even if …

Even if Josh was dead.

And Josh _was_ dead. _He_ himself had held him in his arms when he had died. He _knew_ that his friend _was dead_, and therefore he also knew that this young man in front of him was _not_ Joshua. And yet, Joshua had looked like that when he had seen him last, when …

The same figure, only not sitting there in this chair with bent shoulders but laying in his arms, trembling barely visibly, the same face the young man turned towards him and that looked so much alike Josh's, pale and tense, the same green eyes, the same scars on the slender arms. Only the dirt and the blood were missing.

Scars.

As the Potions Master he was Severus' sharp and alert eyes easily noticed the scars on the slender arms and around the thin wrists, scars where ropes – most likely a long time ago – had cut deeply into the flesh and his gaze darkened while he furrowed his brows nearly angrily.

Again … again Joshua's face came to the front of his mind.

_"I'm sorry, my friend. Don't follow me. Go back, Severus, it is not your time yet. One day you will be needed. Go back as long as you can."_

Norman's and Edgar's words came back into his mind, words spoken in a conversation held only a few days ago, only a few days, but right now, in this moment, it rather seemed like half an eternity instead of a few days.

_"Since Isaac's death he lives alone out there. James and Isaac have been friends. And I mean, really friends."_

_"He's been driving the old road over to the stone pit, and whatever reason for, he'd lost control over his car and fell down the cliff. Strange thing that was. You see, if one can drive a car, then it's James. And why he's been driving along there, no one except James knows. This road is closed for the open traffic since long … it's dangerous."_

_"When Mark and the medics arrived they found James, badly injured, cradling the dead body of his friend, rocking him. They said, how James had gotten him from beneath the wreck, had been a riddle to them. However, somehow he had managed."_

_"They'd tried to get him to let go of Isaac so that they could care for his injures, but he had refused to let go. They'd tried to talk to him, tried to pull Isaac from his arms, but ev'rything had been in vain. James had been clinging to his friend as if to a safety line. They'd said he'd cried the entire time."_

Slowly Joshua's form entered the front of his mind again, his words mixing with the words Norman and Edgar had said, mixing together to a tangle of pictures and words he wasn't able to discern, what was past, what was real, what was present … his thoughts seemed to stumble over themselves while everything seemed to get turned upside down, chaos ruling within his mind without him being able to stop it – and that for an accomplished occlumens, that meant _something_.

_"Do not wish to stay here, you cannot stay here. I will need you. I will be lonely. I just don't know when yet. Promise me, my friend, will you be there for me wherever and whenever I will need you?"_

_"He's living his own life out there, alone, he never invites someone, never accepts the help some people like Mark or me offers, and with time some people really got scared of him."_

_"Then it will be alright. Then I can go and hope, hope that you one day will be there. I will wait for you, my friend."_

_"During this night he has lost the only person he really had loved, the only person he ever had trusted. He never had told what really had happened, during this night out there in the stone pit."_

_"Several months he hadn't even been able to give an answer to anything. And after he would've been able to? I think he didn't care about the Hudsons anymore. He just lives his life out there, alone."_

_He just lives his life out there, alone, alone _… _James and Isaac have been friends _… _they'd said he'd cried the entire time _… _scars _… _scars where ropes – most likely a long time ago – had cut deeply into the flesh _…

_"I will need you _… _I will wait for you, my friend _…_"_

_"He just lives his life out there, alone _…_"_

_Alone, as if he had waited _…

_As if he had waited _… _for him _…

_James _…

_Joshua _…

_James _…

And then he sighed with relief the moment he realized – he _had_ found Joshua. Somehow, in some strange way he actually _had_ found him.

At first, when Joshua had died, he had thought he never ever again would see his friend. Then, during this night when the picture of his friend had asked of him to go back, had asked of him to be there for him one day, had told him that he would need him one day, he had feared he wouldn't know when and where, hadn't known if he would know how he could help him, had feared he would fail his friend, like he had failed him once when he'd died, had feared he wouldn't be able to find him.

Just like that day when …

Because his friend was dead, Joshua was dead, and how could he help a dead person?

But then pain wound itself into his chest, pain that threatened to rob his breath a second time when he realized that his friend – or should he rather say this stranger – had waited two years now, even if he hadn't known it himself. Two years! He already _had_ failed him. Had failed him for two years.

Of course it was just four months since Joshua had died, and of course it was just two months since he was here, since he had left Nevada to come here to Canada, since Joshua had asked him to be there for him and therefore he knew – he wouldn't have been able to be here anytime sooner, and yet, the thought that this person in front of him, stranger or not, had waited two long years in vain, this thought hurt somehow, as strange as it seemed. Everything in this bloody situation seemed strange, but that was fate, wasn't it?

He was a wizard and he knew best that there were things between heaven and earth that – just were strange.

But that wasn't important now, in this moment. Fate had led him to his friend. He had reached his destiny and even if he didn't know this young man, he already felt drawn to him, as if he knew him since years, as if he knew him for his entire life, and he somehow knew that he would do anything to try and give whatever comfort he would be able to give to this young man he somehow knew was troubled – and would be _in_ trouble too.

Just like Joshua always had been in trouble.

Slowly he regained his always present self-control and calmly he took two more steps towards the other, lowering his head to the left a bit while his harsh eyes went soft.

"You are … James?" He once more asked with a soft and calm voice.

The young man finally nodded, slowly and confused still, while he then quickly and with awkward movements took the cardigan from the backrest of the chair and slipped into the sleeves, never leaving his eyes off him, Severus, watching him unsurely and warily, distrust clearly evident in his green eyes, nearly frightened and Severus couldn't help thinking of a small and lost child that was scared.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

When the soft voice broke through his thoughts once more he forced himself back into the present time and again he looked at the stranger, but then he nodded, informing the other one that yes, he indeed was James, and he took the cardigan from the backrest of his chair, slipped into the sleeves.

He had seen the gaze the stranger had cast at the scars on his wrists and he didn't like anyone seeing them. Never before had anyone seen them, as far as he knew at least, except for Isaac and Mark, and the people from the hospital of course – well, _and_ his uncle of course, according to what Mark had told him, of course his uncle had seen.

But his uncle was dead. Mark had said so.

And the people from the hospital, he didn't care for them, he most likely wouldn't see them ever again. And Mark? Mark was here or he wasn't here, he didn't care either.

He cast a questioning gaze at the stranger and lowered his head to one side, questioningly, again amazed at how similar the man looked like Isaac. The same angular and harsh face, the same black and calm but piercing eyes, the same smooth and velvet deep voice – just like Isaac.

Severus inwardly smiled at the gesture that again reminded him at Joshua.

"I apologize, Mr. …" He then repeated, waiting for a moment, giving the younger man the chance to tell him his surname.

"Potter." The dark haired young man said and he nearly lost his composure a second time.

Potter.

James Potter.

Harry James Potter.

Harry Potter.

Could this be?

But then – of course, he should have seen it. The black hair, just like James Potter's hair had been, only longer, and the green eyes, like Lily's eyes, the pale face … but then, he had been fixed so desperately at the resemblance between James and Joshua – he of course hadn't seen the resemblance between this young man and James Potter. And surely had he not made any connections to Harry Potter, only now realizing the similarities, only now realizing that this man here was indeed younger than Joshua had been, ten years younger actually.

Merlin – he was about to … Joshua already had been ten years younger than him, something that had created a rather unequal friendship already, and James Potter was even ten years younger than Joshua had been!

However, he also had to admit that, he never had seen the resemblance between Joshua and James Potter – James Potter senior – either, even if it definitely always had been there, even during Joshua's younger years.

So, this was Harry Potter.

Why had he changed his name to James Potter? When had he changed his names to James Potter? He seemed to live here since a long time now – maybe Petunia had changed his name? But if he had, then why would he do such a thing? If she had done so to keep the boy from the wizarding world, then why had she not changed his name from Potter to Dursley too? It didn't really make any sense.

"It really has not been my intention to startle you, Mr. Potter." He then said, giving away a curt nod. "My name is Severus Snape. I am searching for a small apartment or something similar and Norman Kenneth told me you had one."

Slowly James Potter nodded.

Of course. He had forgotten about that. Norman had told him that one of his mechanics was looking for an abode and with his hand he pointed at the empty chair that stood at the other side of the table, inviting the stranger to sit down and the tall and dark man stepped closer.

Severus inclined his head in acceptance of the invitation while Potter gazed back at him and then inclined his head to greet him, once more inviting him to take a seat and finally the Potions Master sat down into the empty chair. Just then the younger man pointed towards the mug of coffee that stood in front of him at the table.

"Coffee?" He just asked curtly.

Severus nodded. He was shocked, he had to admit, unsure of how he should act in this most unfathomable situation one possibly could find himself in, and a cup of coffee hopefully _would_ help to calm his nerves a bit.

"A cup of coffee would be most welcomed, thank you." He therefore answered, glad that his voice despite his shock still sounded calm and collected.

Potter too nodded and without another word the younger man got off the armchair he had been sitting in, took his own mug and went towards the house, with movements that were slow and careful, causing him to narrow his eyes at the younger man's retreating form.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

While he took a second cup from the board over the sink and poured coffee in both cups he thought over the question the stranger had asked of him. He had thought over it earlier, when Norman had told him about the mechanic that was looking for an abode, and he had been unsure what he should do, already rejecting in his mind, knowing that he'd be unable to live together with a strange, with any person actually.

But now, why shouldn't he allow this stranger to move in? He liked his facial appearance, even if one surely couldn't say that he looked really good – not that this mattered, he wasn't gay after all – but he liked his eyes, and his voice. They reminded him at Isaac. Those dark, black eyes, the deep and velvet voice, they reminded him at Isaac. Those harsh lines in the older man's face reminded him at Isaac. Hell, _the entire man_ reminded him at Isaac.

He wasn't even entirely sure that this man was an illusion, his mind finally snapping and creating a permanent illusion that lived and talked with him.

So, why not?

He'd missed Isaac so very much and hadn't he been here just weeks ago? Had told him that he would always have a friend at his side? Had it been this, Isaac had meant?

Slowly he went back to the veranda, both cups in his hands. He hadn't brought milk or sugar. Even if this Severus Snape maybe would have needed milk and sugar in his coffee, he himself drank his coffee black and therefore he simply hadn't thought of it, simply didn't even _have_ milk or sugar in his household.

Too long hadn't he had any visitors and therefore he didn't care about courtesy or discourtesy of a host. Not to mention that he hadn't invited this Severus Snape in the first place. Well, yes, somehow he had, he had told Norman that this guy could come and then they would see, even if he didn't know why he had said yes to Norman in the first place. But he hadn't invited him for a nice afternoon coffee klatch after all.

He placed one of the mugs at the table in front of the other man and keeping his own one in his hands he sat down back into his chair, waiting, watching the stranger. A few moments there was silence between the two, but then this Snape person who looked into his eyes openly with his black ones inclined his head.

"Well." The stranger finally started. "Some days ago I have told Norman Kenneth about my need of a different abode. It is too cramped and too dirty in the motel and there are too many people living close by in West Hamleton, even if it is only a small valley. I rather like living in solitary. On Friday Norman informed me that you are living alone here and that you maybe had a small apartment, and so I decided to ask you."

Again James nodded, somehow comforted by the deep and pleasant voice of the other man that perfectly matched his dark and harsh appearance – even if this voice rather reminded him of a more corpulent man than the one that was sitting opposite him, a very slender man. Snape had spoken very softly and yet – his voice had been heard and understood clearly and without any troubles.

But that wasn't all. This voice expressed a sureness that was startling. It was demanding somehow and he actually felt the urge to follow it without being able to withstand, knowing that this man would be able to lead him like Isaac had led him, to ground him, to … to calm him. _And_ he could understand what the stranger meant. It had been the reason as to why Isaac and he had bought this house here, out of town. But otherwise he didn't ask questions, just sat there and watched Snape with his serious and questioning green eyes.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus watched Potter, watched him listening to his words, watched him watching him, serius, silently, and the wizard got nervous again. It might be Potter, but at the same time he knew that it was Joshua as well.

Joshua …

James …

Maybe this was the reason as to why Harry Potter had changed his name to – James Potter? But what exact reason was it anyway? Fate? Doom? Destiny?

Joshua …

James …

Never mind what, this here was his chance, his _only_ chance, to do what his friend had asked of him, to meet his friend's last wish, and somehow he knew – he just couldn't mess this up. And still he didn't know how he should react.

Potter …

If just Potter would say something.

"Well, Mr. Potter." He finally continued. "I would like to rent the apartment. That is, if you are ready to rent it out. I have a job and I can afford to pay for it, I am not a messy person and I do not hear loud music. I neither drink nor do I smoke and therefore I am sure I won't disturb …"

Here Severus trailed off when Potter softly started chuckling, and he gazed at the younger wizard with a scowl before he realized that his dark gaze surely wouldn't help the situation.

But then another startling thought hit him – that was Potter, Harry Potter, a young wizard, but he lived here as if he were a muggle and Norman had said that he had lost his memories. So …

"Sorry." The younger man said, lifting his hands in apology and shaking his head while he still smiled. His deep voice sounded … Severus couldn't really describe what it sounded like, but he immediately had to think at not only Joshua, but at a musician, someone who not only would be able to – simply sing, but to play with his voice, that would capture someone, like Joshua's voice had sounded, had captured people. And yet, he also could hear that this voice sounded strained, as if it would be under constant control – just like his movements were as well, Severus noticed with disapprovingly drawn eyebrows.

Of course James had noticed the disapproving gaze Snape had thrown towards him and his gaze too darkened for a split second. But then he sighed and pointed at the package of cigarettes that lay at the table in front of him. He was a smoker himself, he was a messy person and he did like listening to loud music from time to time – so he wouldn't be bothered. It just was – within the few minutes since the man's arrival he had started to like this stranger, and that was something that had happened never before – he actually had spoken in front of a stranger more than one word, he had moved and he even had laughed.

Yes, he would rent out an apartment to him.

The problem was – he didn't _have_ one.

Isaac and he, they had bought this house together and they had lived here together, they had shared this house and therefore – Snape as well would have to live together with him here in this house and he didn't know if he would be ready for _that_, for living together with a stranger, with someone he didn't know.

But then …

"I fear that Norman didn't … express himself clearly." He finally said with a serious voice while he took a cigarette from the package and lightened it, watching the other one closely. "I don't have an apartment. I just have this house where you could have a bedroom. Aside from that … well, the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room and such … well, you could co-use them, what is there however, except of my bedroom and my study of course. You could use the cellar as well as the attic and the garden. I don't have the right touch with that anyway. Whatever I plant, it dies within the shortest time possible because I either are drowning it or I forget it until it dies of thirst. That's all I can offer, nothing else, just the sharing of the house and grounds."

Still James watched the other man unsurely. Even if he wasn't sure if _he himself_ was ready for that, he still feared that the _other one_ would decline. But Severus Snape watched him calmly.

"In other words – I would live in the house together with you?" Severus finally asked, still trying to sound calm. Well, the Potions Master didn't feel as calm as he seemed, but he simply was glad that the young man that was sitting there and watching him unsurely, hadn't refused him at once.

Slowly Potter nodded with a still unsure gaze at him.

"Wouldn't it bother you? You do not know me after all." He added, watching Potter himself with the eyes of a Potions Master.

The slender form was rather skinny than simply slender, as if underfed, and Potter definitely looked tired, exhausted, dark circles underlining his green eyes in the pale face. Potter also was anything than relaxed, he noticed, the delicate shoulders bent, but he nevertheless could see that the muscles there were tight. The pale face definitely was a mask he displayed, and nevertheless he could see the lines of pain and fear, the lines of a harsh life and for a moment he wondered what had caused them. The green eyes seemed to be calm, and nevertheless he could see the storm raging behind this calmness he displayed. Of course he had heard rumours, and of course some of those rumours had been confirmed by sources he trusted enough to believe, but …

Hadn't Potter lived an easy life with his relatives? With his aunt and uncle? That had been the reason as to why Dumbledore had placed Potter with them after all, in the muggle world. And hadn't they even bothered with moving to America, away from England and the wizarding world to keep Potter safe and happy? To keep him away from any troubles and a war?

But he knew that those signs he could see did not stem from a few months only but from years, from years of pain and fear. But how …

He started to get worried when there was no answer for a few seconds while the young man opposite him seemed to consider his question, but then finally Potter shook his head, grasping the mug and taking a sip of his black coffee.

"If it doesn't bother you that I _do_ smoke and hear loud music from time to time." He then said. "And that I actually _am_ a chaotic person. I only can warn you, Mr. Snape, there could be times in which I'm not easy to handle. I'm strange. That's at least what people say."

Severus couldn't help smirking.

Joshua's room as well had been a mess and wherever Joshua had been, there too chaos had ruled. Joshua's entire life had been chaos, had been a mess, and somehow he had cleaned up after his younger friend, had cleaned up the mess and chaos Joshua always had managed for years. So he was used to it.

"It won't bother me." He then answered. "And I do not care about what people say. I prefer forming a view of myself. However, are you absolutely sure about that, Mr. Potter? As you have warned me, I should show the same courtesy towards you. I too am not the most pleasant person. I can be very nasty, that at least it is what my students say."

Once more Potter looked at him, seemed to think over his words, but then he nodded. "I too prefer forming a view of myself, Mr. Snape, and I don't think that there's any student once in a while that wouldn't accuse his teacher of being nasty." And just then the young man extended his hand towards the house. "Feel like home." He then added, calmly, as if he had just invited his best friend to use his kitchen to get a glass of water instead of a stranger to use his entire house.

Severus sat there for a moment, frozen, watching the young man with a startled gaze.

That couldn't be true.

Potter didn't know him, had only seen him for a few minutes, had only exchanged a few sentences with him, and he just informed him so invitingly that he should feel like home? Never before had he experienced something like that, not even something _akin_ to that, hadn't even _heard_ of something like that, and he wondered what might have caused Potter to decide inviting him into his house like that. Not even into an apartment, but into his _house_, to _live_ there.

"What do you want to have for it?" He finally asked after he had gotten over his first shock.

James watched Snape as if he were stuck by lightning. He hadn't thought about that. Isaac and he, they had bought that house _together_, and so none of them had to pay the other. He didn't know an answer to Snape's question and so he just shrugged his shoulders.

But Severus too didn't know what the rent for the sharing of a house normally would be, and he just was about to say so, when Potter lifted his hand to stop him, and then slowly stood.

Severus watched James Potter's movements and he immediately realized that they indeed seemed heavy and awkward, as if he were extremely tired, exhausted, or as if he were in pain somehow, as if those movements would cost him a large amount of efforts and energy, and once more the always so harsh gaze of his black eyes seemed to get softer a few decades while the younger man wordlessly went back into the house.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus Snape watched the young man named James Potter walking into the house and his thoughts stumbled through his mind chaotically again.

Potter! Why hadn't Norman told him the young man's surname? Why hadn't he, Severus, even asked?

But then – he was glad he hadn't. He doubted that he would even have come here if he had known that it was James Potter that lived here.

_Harry_ Potter.

The boy never had visited Hogwarts and no one had known what had become of the saviour of the wizarding world. He had vanished into thin air when he had been about eleven, when he would have had to attend Hogwarts, and no one had known when, whereto, why, or what had happened. Albus had been beside himself when he had learned that the Dursleys had moved, had left Surrey, and absolutely no one had known whereto. They had searched Britain for months, years even.

There had been a few dubious rumours of course, some neighbours telling them that the poor boy hopefully wasn't with the Dursleys anymore when they had moved out of number four, as they apparently had handled him poorly. And then there had been that teacher who had informed them that she was sure they had left because some teachers had noticed abuse and had started asking questions. The strange thing had been – Arabella had confirmed just that.

He had asked her later, a few months later, after the uproar of Potter's disappearing had dimmed a bit and after Albus had calmed down a bit, had asked her about her confirmation of Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world of all people being abused by his relatives and why she never had informed the headmaster if she had seen something. The thing was – she had. She had informed Albus about abuse she had seen, but the blasted old man never had acted.

Well, Albus Dumbledore of course never had acted, he never had done anything about any abuse, never mind if it had concerned Tom Riddle, Severus Snape, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy – or Harry Potter.

He hadn't believed it at first. Harry Bloody Potter, son of James Bloody Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world being abused by his relatives. But he had listened and he had thought and he had watched a few memories. And in the end – he hadn't had any other chance than accepting just that – while at the same time he had refused to accept.

Even Arabella's confirmation – Merlin, Arabella was an old woman who had eyes for her cats only, coddling that blasted things and talking to them like a madwoman having lost her mind! And the neighbours? There always was whispering in any neighbourhood, it was normal. Albus had said the boy was safe with the Dursleys, as had the ministry, as had child welfare even – and Merlin believe him, he even had asked them!

It hadn't been because he missed the idiot child of a childhood nemesis he'd once had. No, it had been because he had known that Lily would have wanted him to do his own searching – even if this searching had been in vain, he hadn't found the boy after all.

But watching the man now – it seemed true what people had told and Harry Potter had been abused by his relatives, by his aunt and uncle, and after the boy had been eleven and had gotten his Hogwarts letter, the Dursleys had moved, hoping they would escape the wizarding world. And they _had_ managed, he knew. Otherwise Potter would have attended Hogwarts after all. Otherwise at least he would have found the boy.

But abuse to a point where it had left permanent marks like the one he'd seen on this young man here? Could they really have abused Potter so badly so that he bore permanent signs? Or might that have been the result of those Hudson gang Norman had mentioned? Taking a deep breath he frowned, trying to remember what he knew of Potter and the thing with the wizarding world.

Well, a few years after Potter had vanished the Dark Lord had been back, he – Severus – had been back to his spying and Albus had been back to searching for his saviour. He again had heard rumours then, about Potter being abroad, in the states somewhere, and they had started looking there – without success still.

And then, just two years ago, the Dark Lord had been gone for good, had been found dead. No one had known what had happened, but again he had heard rumours and those rumours had said that it had been – yet again – Potter, who had defeated the Dark Lord … looking into the direction of where the young man had vanished he narrowed his eyes.

_"Since two years he has this small towing service, twenty miles down the highway."_

Two years, could that be a coincidence? Coincidence when it comes to Harry Potter who had been missed, who was meant to be the saviour of the wizarding world and who _could_ have had dealings with the Dark Lord that has been defeated for good two years ago?

_"Well, one day James had been gone, for weeks. And then he'd had that accident. The whole thing has been evil, back then."_

Potter has been gone for weeks and the outcome had been evil – of course it had been evil if – _if_, mind you – it had something to do with the Dark Lord!

_"He's been driving the old road over to the stone pit, and whatever reason for, he'd lost control over his car and fell down that cliff. Strange thing that was. You see, if one can drive a car, then it's James. And why he's been driving along there, no one except of James knows."_

Well, of course it was a strange thing. Those people here were muggles, and if the Dark Lord had his hands in this, they of course would call it strange. And someone who was an expert in driving a car and losing control over it, having an accident? It could be coincident. But it also could have been the Dark Lord having caused this.

_"That at least is the official version."_

So – _if_ there was an official version and if that fact that there _was_ an official version in the first place was expressed like that, so stressed, then surely there was an unofficial version as well? Why else would Norman have made a point about it like that if there wasn't?

_"But since then, well, James has changed. Changed completely. He'd lost his memory, remembers nothing aside from Isaac. And some people think he's an idiot, they think he's become mad. Some people even are scared of him."_

Of course – _again_ of course – Potter had changed by something like that. Anyone would have changed if meeting the Dark Lord and then ending up badly injured with his friend dead. Could the Dark Lord have used a confundus charm? Or an obliviate? But why would he have done such a thing in the first place?

_"During this night he has lost the only person he really had loved, the only person he ever had trusted. He never had told what really had happened, during this night out there in the stone pit. The only thing we knew was that the Hudson-Gang has been out there in this night as well. Mark has seen them coming from there. But they hadn't admitted to that, of course."_

Well, if Potter had been abused, then of course he hadn't trusted many people and of course he never had told anyone about what had happened. Neither of the abuse nor of what had happened in that stone pit. They never did. But Hudson … he didn't remember any Death Eaters named Hudson. But did that mean anything? They could have changed their names. They could have _been_ Death Eaters. And who said that the Dark Lord had only had Death Eaters in Britain? He could have had some here in the States as well.

It could have been. It definitely _was_ possible.

Did Potter know that he was a wizard? If not – should he tell him? What could happen if he told him? What could happen if he didn't tell him? What …

The young man – the young _wizard_ – came back and after watching him, Severus, for a moment he sat back down into the chair he had left a few minutes ago, fixing his green eyes absent mindedly at the keys he was holding in his hand while his gaze once more seemed to drift away, most likely into the past. But then he lifted his head, watched him with his green eyes once more and after another second of hesitation he reached both keys that – and he was sure about that – had once belonged to Isaac, to his friend, towards him.

"One is for the house." He heard him saying softly. "And one is for the garage." The young man then added.

Severus took them, slowly, nearly frozen, watching Potter with a clearly shocked face before he slowly shook his head, confused.

"Wait a moment, Mr. Potter." He softly said, nearly whispered. "You still did not tell me what you …"

But once again Potter lifted his hand, cut him off and shook his head. And he, Snape, he was too shocked still to feeling offended by the much younger man cutting him off. Merlin, Potter had to be twenty years his junior! Joshua had been ten years younger than he had been and some people had said that their friendship had been strange, but Potter – Potter had been born in July 1980, so he was nineteen now while he, Severus, was thirty-nine.

"This is unacceptable, Mr. Potter, you cannot …" Severus once more tried to say something, but again he was cut off by Potter who simply waved off his comment, nearly angrily this time.

A third time Severus opened his mouth to say something, already getting irritated at the boy's insolence, tried to say something, but Potter didn't even listen anymore. He took his mug, took another sip of the coffee and then he took a cigarette from the package, got off his chair.

"I can and I will." The young man finally said and his _voice_ clearly sounded angrily too. "This house is large enough. There will be enough space for both of us. You need a stay and I have too much space for one person alone to begin with. It's my house and therefore I can do with it as I please and I want you living here as long as you wish. And I don't want to have anything for it. That is my last word and my name is James."

Without giving Severus the opportunity or time to answer anything to that Potter turned and went back into the building, left the Potions Master sitting behind on the veranda, alone, alone with his thoughts.

He was sitting there for a few minutes, still absolutely stunned, shocked.

He really should have known it. He _should_ … have _known_ it!

It had been the same reaction Joshua too would have shown. Joshua too had never accepted anything for the help he had offered. Joshua too would have given the shirt on his back without hesitating for just a split second, without thinking about it even, if it were necessary, without even thinking for the tiniest second of the consequences for himself.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

When James came back this Snape person still was sitting in the chair, his thoughts far away and quietly he sat back down into his own chair, placed the mug onto the table and took the package of cigarettes. He didn't wish to disturb the other man's thoughts, just now realizing that maybe he had shocked the stranger with his action and lost in his own thoughts he fished a cigarette from the packet, lightened it and inhaled deeply.

He wondered how it would be like to live together with this stranger in this house, what would come out of it, what changes for him would result out of his decision, if they would manage, what kind of man this Severus Snape was, just when he noticed that said man was watching him with an amused gleam in his dark eyes and he gazed back questioningly, receiving a headshake from the man.

"I just never have seen someone exhaling the smoke through the nose." Severus answered the unspoken question with amusement in his voice. But then he grew serious. "I do however thank you for your offer, Mr. Potter, and I will accept it. But I expect you to promise me something in return."

Surprised James lifted his eyebrow. He hadn't expected this. He never promised anything. He never had and he never would. And yet he lifted his eyebrow and looked at the other man questioningly.

"If there ever might be something that I might be doing for _you_, then please do inform me." Severus said. "That is all I ask of you." He watched the young man closely, nearly worriedly a bit, imploring, and now it was James' turn to smile with amusement. But then, and much to his own surprise, he slowly inclined his head in agreement.

Since Isaac's death he hadn't accepted the help others had offered anymore, since two years he hadn't accepted anyone around him anymore, but this stranger – it was as if he had known him his entire life already. And as strange as it might have sounded, but he actually was ready to accept the offer and in agreement he inclined his head.

Maybe, just _maybe_, was Isaac living within this stranger. And therefore he accepted him, his presence and his offer – and not just that. He realized that he started feeling something he hadn't felt in a very long time, started feeling some kind of trust, of life, trust that he had thought lost a long time ago somewhere on the road he had gone alone without Isaac, he could feel how parts of the desperation, how parts of the hopelessness vanished, got replaced by something else and he relaxed bit by bit. The first time since … he didn't know, couldn't _remember_ … but he knew that it definitely was the first time since Isaac was gone.

Severus took a deep breath and released it with relief when he saw Potter nodding, but then … all of a sudden … he perceived a faint something of trust that had appeared in the young man's green eyes, felt parts of the desperation he had felt coming from the young man before being driven away by hope and somehow he then knew – it _was_ Joshua.

Harry Potter, or rather James Potter, somehow was Joshua Vaughn.

His own apprehension and worry vanished, gave space to his always present calmness and composure, while he knew that what had happened this afternoon, it had been the right thing, knew, it would he alright.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_A simple morning starts._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

441 Points - Slytherin

393 Points - Gryffindor

386 Points - Ravenclaw

170 Points - Hufflepuff


	5. a simple morning starts

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I just borrow them a bit ...

Uhm ... and well ... sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world ... I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this ... I at least promise to try ...

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... I do not have much experience in Harry Potter stories ... it is my first one, I have to admit ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Here and now**

**Chapter five **

**A simple morning starts**

**December 2003**

It was Sunday evening, and damn, he hated Sunday evenings. Not every one, but every other one.

James sighed for a moment while he pressed his teeth together in frustration and for a short moment he closed his eyes.

And this particular Sunday evening was one of those he hated, he decided, while he looked over at Severus who was laying on the sofa, already sleeping soundly. And how he hated this particular Sunday.

He wasn't the kind of person that got unsettled easily, but this evening he was frustrated and nervous, just like every other Sunday evening and he knew that this condition would linger until Thursday evening, as well like always, until Severus would be at home again, and this fact frustrated him just the more. But he couldn't change it.

He had tried it, God, he really had, and not just once. He had tried to stay calm, to _not_ worry when it was Severus' turn to drive this goddamn route, had really tried to distract himself, yet – he just never managed. He never had managed this and he knew he never would.

Maybe it was because he liked Severus too much.

Well, _of course_ he did, what other reason for would they live together after all? And since years now? But there was more!

No, he wasn't gay. And neither was Severus. There wasn't anything between them. They'd never had sex even if they shared a bedroom since more than a year now. Well, they had no other chance after all, the house simply was too small for the both of them _and_ the three boys than that they could have afforded the luxury of having an own bedroom, added to James' study in the attic and Severus' rooms in the cellar, and nevertheless there never had been something between them, their beds standing on two opposite walls too.

They just were damn good friends. Or could there be platonic love between two men also? Again he looked over at Severus who was laying at the sofa, sleeping, and warmth spread through his body, warmth that again got mixed with worry the moment he thought of Monday morning. If it was possible, platonic love existing between two men, then yes – then they were gay.

Platonic gays, really great.

He couldn't help smirking at that thought. Platonic gays, who could think of something like that? Severus surely would regard him with one of those looks of pity he so often looked at him with, whenever he thought he had gone nuts.

Once more he sighed. Damn, why had Severus decided to do the same job than him in the first place? What reason for? But well, it didn't help. It had been Severus' decision, and he, James, he didn't have the right to question Severus' decisions. And nevertheless he would have preferred it if he had taken a different job.

Damn, he'd _had_ a different job! And a good one! On the other hand, the drivers were paid above average, and therefore they couldn't complain about financial problems of any kind. But was it worth this? Had they really been in need of this?

No. if he thought about that question, then he had to say – no, they hadn't been in need of this. His own income and the money Severus made with whatever he was doing down there in his laboratory he had built into the cellar would have been enough. Severus just liked this job, like he did. If it just wouldn't have been so dangerous.

Quietly he groaned at the thought exactly _what_ could happen until his friend was back at home on Thursday evening and he shook his head, shoved those thoughts aside quickly. This kind of thoughts weren't the best to cease his worries and he better didn't even think of that.

Tomorrow morning at ten to five Severus would leave the house and drive to the South Store, would load the truck and then he would start his route. Six hundred and forty miles across the ice, thirteen hours until he reached the Transfer Station where he would check his load, where he would eat something together with the other truckers and where he then would sleep a few hours before he would start for the north again on Tuesday morning, would drive another seven hundred and eighty miles to the North Store in Flat Hollow. There he would unload the truck, would eat something and then he would sleep, most likely in the cabin of the truck.

Severus didn't like the crew from the North Store, except of Jeff maybe, and he, James, couldn't blame him for it, he felt the same. The men from Flat Hollow were like the place itself, and the place was like the name already pointed out – flat and hollow.

However, Wednesday morning he would start with new load that was meant for West Hamleton, once more about fifteen hundred miles across the wilderness and the ice of the Northwest Territorities and of the Barren Grounds until he finally would be back home Thursday evening at eight – if all went well that was. And given that he would be able to keep up his average speed all the times – what barely was possible.

On the other hand, Severus was one of the few who had managed just this. To be precise, that bloody man held a lot of records actually, James realized with a frown. He definitely was not only one of the fastest drivers but he definitely was the quickest one with loading and unloading. For his nerves that sometimes seemed to be made of steel cables, he was envied by most of the others and he definitely was considered as one of the most reliable ones of the crowd.

Not to mention the trials of strength which were fought out between the truckers every now and then.

And yet – just like him, James – Severus wasn't the biggest or most corpulent one.

Softly he laughed.

Severus was anything else than corpulent, the older man was strong, yes, but just as thin as was he, James. Yet – he was stringy – and strange.

Once Severus got stuck with the truck on his way, when he had been on his way back from Flat Hollow to West Hamleton. He had informed the Transfer Station per radio and then he just had walked on through the wilderness of ice and snow, just had walked on.

Well, of course he had walked on, he couldn't have done anything else after all. If you got stuck out there on this route they were driving then it could mean death and the only thing that would save you were to keep your head and to move to keep yourself warm. And just that he had done.

Big Bear and Worry had started immediately of course, but nevertheless they hadn't really thought they would find him in time, not with 400 miles he'd been away from the Station and they had cursed Severus to hell and back. 400 miles, even with the quicker and smaller rescue vessels meant six to eight hours, if nothing happened on their way. And eight hours out there with nothing than just a few warm clothes – it wasn't a really calming thought. But well, they had reached him in time, and what had this bastard done? He had laughed, had asked them what had kept them.

Once more he looked over at Severus and sighed, then he slowly stood and started to get ready for bed. It wouldn't do any good if he sat here for the reminder of the night, worrying. Tomorrow morning at four Severus' alarm would go off.

Of course Severus didn't expect of him to get up as well, but he nevertheless did, just like Severus always got up with _him_ when it was _his_ turn to drive, even if he didn't expect it of his friend either. But well, the four days during which they didn't see each other, worried over each other, they were long enough and it simply was – well, a calming thing to see the other off on Monday morning instead of Sunday evening. The days during which they could worry _seemed_ cut short at least then.

And he knew that Severus worried over him when he was the one driving just as well as the other way round. He could see it in his black eyes whenever he left the house on Monday mornings and he could see the relief in his eyes whenever he came back on Thursday evenings. And he also could hear it in his voice whenever Severus tried to contact him per radio or on his mobile to ask where he was and if everything was alright, if he was in some kind of trouble.

Yes, maybe there really was something like platonic love between men possible and again a small smirk scurried over his face at this thought while he – just like every evening – stuck his head into the rooms of the three boys before he went to the bedroom to lay down for himself.

Sam was laying in his bed when he opened the door, the blanket pulled up to his chin and his back touching the wall, the small lamp on the bedside table illuminating the brown locks. His pale face was peaceful and his shoulders rose and lowered regularly by each breath he took. Very good, he was sleeping peacefully tonight, something that wasn't to be taken for granted and satisfied he pulled his head back and left the door ajar.

Then he opened the door to Terry's room. The boy was laying on his stomach, his limbs outstretched and only his left hand he had slipped beneath the pillow his head with the tousled mop of blond hair was resting at. James didn't need to look beneath the pillow to know that there was a small grey pebble laying, just like every night and he smiled softly at that thought while he gently run his fingers over Terry's cheek and then left this room as well.

Finally he entered Brian's room, who lay on his back in his bed, the wrong way round, his feet laying atop the pillow while his upper body lay halfway atop the blanket, halfway beneath it. The boy's head was hanging down at the side of the bed and his mouth was open while soft snoring was heard in the room. Carefully, so he wouldn't wake the teenager, he lifted Brian's head and moved the upper body of the teen back onto the bed. He didn't dare however pulling the blanket from beneath him and instead he took a second blanket and threw it over the still body, even if he knew for sure that Brian, when he woke the next morning, would lay there in the same way. Just then he left this room too with an ajar door.

And just like every night he wondered how Brian was able to sleep like this, while he scrambled beneath his own blanket. He would have woken immediately because it was uncomfortably.

However – tomorrow a new week would start. Severus would drive to work, Brian would go to school just with the exception that Brian would come back home in the afternoon while Severus wouldn't, and Sam and Terry would stay at home. Sam would help him at home while Terry would watch TY, or would skim through comics, while he would search for his stone each and every half an hour.

Sighing he turned to the side while his thoughts drifted off and bit by bit sleep crept over him, engulfing him into a dark blanket beneath which unreal figures moved, _figures that seemed similar to Severus and the boys that ran over the ice, following a truck that vaguely reminded him at his own. Then the figures vanished, one by one being left behind and the figure of Severus changed until he could see himself running after the truck that changed as well, so that he now tried to follow Severus' truck. But he didn't reach it, never mind how hard he tried._

_Whenever he finally came closer, the blasted thing got quicker and he had to use all his strength to not lose it. _

_But then, suddenly, it was gone. It was gone and he was alone on the ice, sliding to a halt, just barely able to keep from sliding into a large and seemingly endlessly deep hole in the middle of the icy lake, just in time to see the vaguely shape that was Severus' truck that was sinking in the icy and endless deeps of the arctic ocean, while small air bubbles rose to the smooth and dark surface_.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The scent of freshly brewed coffee was the first thing James perceived when he left the bedroom and with bleary, half lidded eyes he sniffed, hoping he would get awake with just the scent while he felt his way through the dark corridor. Coffee! Just that it was what he needed right now. A cup of coffee – and a cigarette.

Just like Severus had avoided turning on the light, he avoided that as well. It was just four in the morning and he didn't want to wake one of the boys, especially not Brian. One gleam of light and the brat were awake – and it would be impossible to get him back to sleep. And so he felt his way through the dark corridor …

"Wait a moment, coffee?" He murmured into the dark. "Severus has already made coffee? When? It's just four! And why didn't I hear the alarm?"

… and ran into the edge of the side board.

'_Of course, why ever not.'_ He thought while he pressed his palm against his aching hip and he tried to curse as quietly as possible.

Why did such things always happen to him only and never to Severus? How did this blasted bastard manage to move in the dark as sure as if he would move in the light?

Still cursing quietly he slipped into the kitchen and left the door ajar while he squinted his eyes in the bright light. The scent of the coffee was stronger in here and together with the soft and familiar sound of the coffee maker he slowly got awake. Slowly!

Yawning he ran his hand through his tousled hair, scuffled towards the kitchen table and sat down into one of the chairs. He placed his arms onto the table, laid his head atop his arms and closed his eyes.

One minute! Just one single minute! Damn, was he tired. This damn dreams. Whenever it was Severus' week to drive that damn route they visited him in his sleep even if he surely could do without them. And if they were not _those_ dreams, then they were others, just as unpleasant as the ones he'd had last night.

If he just wouldn't worry so much! But at this point he had been already last night – and had failed miserably.

What had it been tonight anyway? Ah, yes – he'd been running after Severus' truck yet again, had watched how it had sunken into a large hole in the icy surface. Although Severus didn't have an own truck, they shared the truck and only the trailer was supplied by the firm.

For a moment James ran his hand over his face before he placed his head back onto his arms while he on one hand tried to get awake completely but on the other hand tried to keep the blinding light in the kitchen from burning away his eyes – while he was obvious to Severus entering the kitchen doorway and watching him silently.

James wasn't really tall, rather small, but slender, for a man even delicate. Severus had given him some ugly stuff in the beginning, some kind of nutrient drink, had told him it were important to gain at least a bit of weight. And well – he had to admit, it had helped. But he had hated that drink. He hadn't become taller because of it, but he at least had gained weight a bit. But they had been awful, really!

His long and black hair shimmered in the light of the kitchen. They always seemed to be tousled and a few strands hung over his forehead and into his eyes constantly. His pale skin caused a strange contrast to the black hair and normally his facial features were rather soft with a pair of emerald green eyes that shone warm and kind.

Well, not right now maybe, because if the gaze of his green eyes he threw towards the coffee maker every now and then could have killed – the coffee surely wouldn't be edible anymore.

He was wearing tight fitting, black Jeans and a black T-shirt so that – for a man – surprisingly slender wrists and lower arms were seen and Severus Snape's face darkened for a moment when his eyes fell onto the scars that ran around those wrists.

Severus stood in the door, leaning with his shoulder against the door frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest and amusedly he watched the slender form of James who seemed to sleep on the kitchen table. His shoulders rose and lowered regularly with each breath he took while dark and long strands of hair fell over his face and his arms. But that didn't matter. He didn't have to see James' face to know that he was not shaved yet, nor washed, and that the green eyes still were bleary, halfway lingering in the world of dreams, and – not for the first time – he wondered how he had become so close to that young man, to James Potter, to _Harry_ Potter of all people. Never before had he become as close to someone as he had to James, aside from Joshua maybe, and – again not for the first time – he was amazed at the similarity between Joshua and James.

He himself wasn't so different, he knew.

He was taller than James, over-towering the younger man for at least a head and even if he as well was slender he wasn't as skinny as was James. But aside from that? He too had long and black hair, only that it wasn't as tousled as was James' but fixed in a tie behind his neck.

Alright, were James had startling and intense emerald green eyes one surely wouldn't find ever again there had he, Severus, black eyes. But both of them preferred black clothes, black Jeans and black T-shirts. Harry sometimes with silly slogans printed over his chest, like _'Darker than my shirt is only my soul'_ or _'I would intellectually duel with you, but I see you are under-armed'_ or _'If you can read this then you should be very friendly, you are within my operating distance'._ Silly, really.

While they however were similar in their looks, they were very much different concerning their entire character.

Where Severus was calm and quiet, rather reserved and stiff, there James was sometimes energetic and hectic. Where Severus rather tended to be silent, to listen and to control himself, there could James rip through the rooms like a raving lunatic, and pull everything and everyone with him in his state. And where Severus always kept his nerves to make his decisions rationally, well, James rather acted impulsively and sometimes rather irrational, got scared and lost his head.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The soft sound of the kitchen cabinet being closed startled him out of his thoughts and James lifted his head to watch with tired eyes how Severus took two cups from the board and placed them at the table.

"Slept well?" The older man asked while he watched him amusedly.

The younger man watched him for a moment dumbfounded while he wondered how in the name of all devils Severus could be so – awake and able to display any kind of amusement in this early morning hours. Or shouldn't he rather say in the _middle of the night_? It was unnatural and his only explanation to that was that it surely had to be some kind of perversion while he tiredly nodded and gave away a "hm m" that was meant to be a yes. He knew that Severus Snape was a pervert! No one could be as sarcastic as was Severus, and no one could be as alert all the times as was Severus, and no one could be amused in the early morning hours – except of Severus!

Severus Snape however – smirked while shaking his head.

How could one human being be so dozy and cranky in the morning as was James? And people said _he_ was ill-tempered! Honestly! And why hadn't he just stayed in bed, sleeping peacefully? Well, he knew very well that James hadn't slept peacefully, that he had slept poorly and with bad dreams. He knew him well enough to know that. He always had nightmares and whenever it was his, Severus' turn to drive his route, then they only got worse. During the past years he often had told the younger man to stay in bed, to go on sleeping, knowing that the boy didn't get enough sleep during the night and he actually was glad whenever Harry Bloody Potter – or rather James Bloody Potter – got a few hours of peaceful sleep. He was able to care for himself, he was a forty-three old man after all, not a small child and he didn't need a barely twenty year old boy to take care of him.

On the other hand, he knew very well why James had left his bed. He himself couldn't bring himself to stay in bed when the younger man had to leave the house on Monday mornings and a deep sense of gratitude took hold in his chest while he sat down at the table as well. He was glad to have a friend like this, like James, even if it was Harry Bloody James Blasted Potter to begin with. But without this chaotically young man that could be a right out crank sometimes his life would be very boring. Yet – a multiple times calmer and easier, he had to admit, and again he couldn't keep from shaking his head while at the same time he couldn't bring himself to really mind.

"Hm?" James made, looking at him questioningly when he noticed Severus' headshaking.

"Nothing." The Potions Master answered. "I was just thinking."

"You're capable of such?" The boy asked in a murmur while he folded his hands around the hot mug of coffee Severus had placed in front of him, his eyes already closed again.

He was cold! And he was tired! And he was in a bad mood! And – _it was an inhuman time_!

"Insolent brat!" Severus chuckled lightly while he took a sip of his coffee. He knew very well that the boy had not meant any harm. He just wasn't completely awake yet and therefore he was – just in a bad temper, and if he was in a bad temper, then he could display a very sarcastic sense of humour. But he loved this sarcastic sense of humour, it made him smile. It was the kind of humour he himself preferred after all.

"Good morning!" He therefore smirked. "Drink your coffee!"

"I'm doing." James growled sleepily while he took the packet of cigarettes from the other side of the table, fished one of the cigarettes and the lighter out and lightened the coffin nail. It took him two attempts, but then he took his first and greedy drag this morning, the one of which a lot more would follow and he inhaled it deeply.

Severus watched him, clearly not understanding. He never had understood how one could make himself depending on a few butts like this. But well it were James' lungs, not his. And it was James' money, not his.

He watched how the young man grimaced with the first drag he took and he knew that he didn't really enjoy the taste of the cigarettes, particularly not in the mornings. It just was a bad addiction, a bad habit of which James claimed it only was indulgence, he'd be able to stop anytime.

"Did you pack your mobile?" He heard James asking and he forced his thoughts back to the here and now. Of course he had, why did James still ask? Each time he got the same answers to the same questions. Maybe he was a bit dense like Terry? Sometimes one could think so, really.

"I have." He answered with an amused look in his dark eyes, already knowing the next question.

"And it is fully charged?" Harry immediately asked, even if he knew the answer to this question just as well. Because – one, he got the same answer each time and second, Severus was ways too attentive than that he would forget something like charging his mobile. He watched Severus inclining his head.

"It is." He heard Severus answering while he knew exactly what the older man's answer to his next question would be. And nevertheless he asked.

"Did you pack your sunglasses?"

"I did." Severus confirmed patiently and Harry nodded in satisfaction.

"And your wallet?" He asked. He knew that Severus had his papers in his wallet, and aside from that, even if he normally wouldn't need money, the meals in the Station were free after all, it was never a good thing to go out without any money at all.

"This one too, I have." Severus' normally so calm voice slowly got impatient, even if not really angrily, and he nearly smirked with amusement. Harry knew well that Severus knew that he, James, just worried, wanted to be reassured that he had everything with him. Although that wouldn't have been necessary with a person like Severus. Severus Blasted Snape probably was the most reliable, accurate, organized, rational, strict, steadfast, controlled and composed person – aside from other things – that existed on this earth. In fact, it was rather the other way round and _he_ needed _Severus_ so he wouldn't forget everything – including his head, sometimes.

"And your gloves?" He couldn't help asking. "Cap? Scarf?"

"Damn, Potter! You're a pain in the ass!"

"Do you have?"

"I do."

"Don't forget your jacket!"

"Are you implying that I am – dense, somehow?" Severus by now scowled at him in irritation. "Out there it is rather _cold_, if you have not noticed yet."

"I have, I _am_ cold." James whined. "You already packed your sleeping bag?"

"Stop it, Harry, James." Severus growled with a sigh. "Why do you have to cause a drama out of this each time? I am not gone four weeks but four days only!"

"Yes, four days alone in a desert of ice and snow that covers lake over lake!" Damn, why did Severus take this all so lightly? Well, ok, now he had wronged him. He didn't take this lightly, but he pretended that it would be absolutely harmless and not dangerous, and that was what agitated him so much.

He sighed in frustration while he watched Severus getting up the table with an "I have to go" while he took the last sip of his coffee and then slipped into his jacket.

Harry curtly nodded and got off as well, his cup still holding in his hands and he took another cigarette from the packet. Hastily he lightened it before he followed Severus out of the kitchen, watching the older man slipping into his gloves and looping the scarf loosely around his neck.

Harry.

It wasn't the first time that Severus called him Harry.

And each time he did – there was something ringing in his mind, in his head, something that …

"Jacket, Potter." Severus growled into James' direction who looked over at him for a moment, sheepishly. Of course he had been about to follow Severus out of the house without a jacket and with the 42° below zero that the thermometer showed this morning, it wouldn't have been a really wise decision, even if it were only a few minutes. But there it was again, the fact that Severus was the one who thought of such things while he, James, forgot them – or didn't take them so seriously.

"Do not smoke too much." Severus teased with a serious voice, even if he knew that his reprimand was spoken in vain. It always was and, Merlin, he was glad that he'd never had that imp in his class at Hogwarts. "And do not forget the appointment with Brian's teacher tomorrow morning."

"Of course not." James murmured back while he followed Severus out of the house with his cigarette trembling between his fingers, he wouldn't forget the appointment, even if he would _like_ to forget it. Severus was much better in dealing with his colleagues after all. The thing with the _'not smoking too much'_, well, he had missed this one deliberately. Maybe he should visit an ear specialist one day.

Oh, _damn_, was that cold! _Ice cold_!

And for a moment he held his breath. Back inside! Back into the warm house! That was all he wanted. But he kept standing on the front veranda nevertheless, trembling and shivering, glad that Severus had reminded him at his jacket, and he watched his friend unlocking the door of the truck, climbing into the cabin agile as if he were twenty-three and not forty-three.

"Be careful." He called ill-tempered but not really angry. "I don't want to follow you a few hundred miles across the ice to pull you out of somewhere."

"I am always careful. And if my memory serves me right, _Mr. Potter_, then it has been _me_ who had to get _you_ out of trouble last time. I only say … _sunglasses_." Severus chuckled back, emphasizing the last word while he threw his bag onto the passenger seat and settled behind the steering wheel.

"Until Thursday." He called and gazed over at his young and worried friend once more. "I will call you."

Then he pulled the door close, gave a last curt nod into James' direction while he started the engine and then he slowly drove along the driveway, turned right at the end of the way, onto the main road that led to West Hamleton. Well, again he was on his way to the South Store where he would get the trailer, would load it and then start into the direction of north.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The moment the truck was out of sight James turned and hastily went into the warmth of the house. _Damn, was it cold out there_. He thought while he scurried back into the kitchen. And his remaining coffee was just as cold meanwhile, it was a wonder that it wasn't frozen to ice.

He poured the bit of coffee down the drain, nearly disappointed that the black something didn't fall as a clot of ice into the sink but run down fluidly, but then he shook his head about himself and poured fresh, hot coffee into his cup.

Five o'clock.

Still an inhuman time, but it wasn't worth going back to bed for an hour, he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anyway. Just one more cup of coffee, a cigarette, and then he would go to the bathroom before he would wake Brian. The brat had to go back to school today.

Still trembling with cold he sat back at the table, his cold hands pressed around the hot mug and he allowed his thoughts to wander back into the past.

Sunglasses.

This has been six weeks ago and he knew he never again would forget his sunglasses.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_The forgotten sunglasses – part one._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:**

At the present time it looks like this:

460 Points - Slytherin

423 Points - Gryffindor

400 Points - Ravenclaw

172 Points - Hufflepuff


	6. the forgotten sunglasses – part one

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … I do not have much experience in Harry Potter stories … it is … first one, I have to admit …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Here and now**

**Chapter six **

**The forgotten sunglasses – part one**

**November 2003**

Already when he left the barrack he had the feeling that he had forgotten something and absentmindedly he started rummaging through his jacket. Mobile, wallet, cigarettes, lighter, a second pair of gloves, he could find all of that in the pockets of his jacket. He had his backpack with his thermos flask of coffee and his lunch. His gloves, the cap and the scarf he was wearing as well as his jacket and starting to doubt his mind he shook his head.

But he wasn't at ease when he opened the door to his truck and climbed into the driver's cabin. He just had a bad feeling and unhappily he settled behind the steering wheel, plugged the key into the ignition and started the engine. But before he started … _damn_, he knew what he had forgotten.

His CD.

_His CD!_

How could he have forgotten this one! His CD was _important_!

Without his music he couldn't drive!

It was something Severus and the other truckers always made fun of, but it just was that way.

Sighing with relief he left the truck once more. It wasn't particularly pleasant, the feeling that you had forgotten something, because mostly you really _have_ forgotten something then and mostly it was something really important, something that could safe your neck out there if you got stuck.

_Just like his CD!_

And so of course James was relieved to know _what_ it was he had forgotten and with a feeling of satisfaction he once more stepped into the small building.

Big Bear and Worry looked up at him startled.

"What's wrong? The truck's striking? D'you need compression?" Worry immediately asked while Big Bear was already out off his chair, but James waved them off and stepped to the counter behind which Ma watched him warily.

"The CD in the player, could you take it out, please, Ma?" He asked with a smirk, but the chubby woman behind the counter stood there with her hands on her hips and watched him reproachfully for a moment before she shook her head and turned around, taking the small round disc from the CD-player and reached it over at him.

"_You_, would forget your head, Little One, if it were not attached to your shoulders!" She then reprimanded.

Little One. This nickname he had since the first day he had arrived at the Middle Store and smiling he thought back, remembering how they had laughed at him when he had climbed down from the cabin and out of the truck.

But well, he had been just as startled, back then, when he had seen those guys that had left the barrack laughing, some of them built like a brick shit house. Most of them had most likely owned twice as much of weight than he'd had and he had gulped for a moment, had forced himself to ignore their teasing.

Instead of that he simply had grimaced, annoyed, and had then started to unload his trailer, he'd been used to bullying after all.

'_Well, that could be funny.'_ He had thought.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**November 1996**

It was Monday evening. Finally it was Monday evening and the tables in the small common room were occupied with men of all ages, most of them with a cup of coffee in front of them, some with a bottle of beer, comfortably smoking a cigarette, while excited voices filled the small barrack.

They all waited for only one event.

For the arrival of the new one.

Ma had known it at first, like always. She always learned about things at first and she of course always was the first one then who gave the news to the others – and therefore the entire camp now knew.

Today a newbie would arrive.

And all of them now waited for just that, curiously, for the arrival of the new one.

They were sitting together comfortably, just like always actually, chatting, talking shop, joking. But today their gazes wandered out of the window every now and then, and whenever this happened, the conversation stopped until the one who had looked outside turned back, looking at the others with a headshaking.

Nothing.

Nothing yet.

And so the conversations went on, the jokes went on.

When the next one looked out of the window again the present men in the small but comfortable barrack went silent, watched the giant expectantly, and some of them looked strained even.

"Can you see something, Big Bear?" One of them asked, but the man called Big Bear turned back to them with a disappointed face, shaking his head. He turned his attention back to the conversations around him, just throwing one last look out of the window.

And then, finally, he could see them.

Headlights.

Headlights that pierced the darkness out there and his head jerked back to the window while his muscles tensed with anticipation.

The new one was here.

It was a few minutes before nine, so he was damn good in time for being a newbie, not bad.

"He's coming!" He called out with his booming voice. "He's here!"

Immediately chaos broke loose in the small room, everyone got off their seats, hasting over to Big Bear and trying to reach a good spot by the window.

"Stop that, damn!" Big Bear roared. "I can understand that you're curious, there wasn't a newbie here since long, but in some kind of system please! The smaller ones to the front and the taller ones watch from behind! Except me, I'm staying here!"

"And why are you staying at the front? You're the biggest here!" One was calling out, still trying to fight his way through the others and to the front, close to the window.

"Because I'm the strongest!" Big Bear answered laughing. "And because this here is _my_ camp! Do you have a problem with that, Frank? If so, then try getting me away from here! And now shut your gobs! I want to see this here!"

"Didn't know you're looking with your gob!" Another one was laughing, but Big Bear didn't take the bait and tried his best to see something out there in the dark.

Meanwhile the headlights had nearly reached the Barrack and they could see how the truck slowed down bit by bit. But that was all they could see. Slowly the truck stopped, the engine died down and the headlights went off, allowing the lantern outside of the barrack to illuminate the truck.

The truck was painted black as coal, plain, only with a few spots of chrome, but what caught their eyes at the most was the shape of the truck. It was hulky, massive and strong – and yet beautiful, nearly graceful, absolutely unusual and it elicited some 'ahhs' and 'ohhs' of envy from the gawkers.

And then, finally, the driver's door opened, but either the newbie had turned off his interior lighting, or the windshield was toned – what would have been strange, none of them had toned windshields – but only a soft shimmer was visible, no real light and no shape of the person within the cabin.

Damn! What was the guy doing in there? What took him so long? Did he intend on spending the night in the truck? That took ages!

But then finally a pair of legs that climbed down the cabin appeared, the door was thrown shut and …

Big Bear was the first one who burst out laughing. The person that was illuminated by the lantern was …

Others joined into his laugher.

"But look! That's a child still! He doesn't even have a beard yet!" Big Bear called out, his booming voice appalled.

"Look at that! How tiny he is!" Frank laughed. "He's only a kid's portion!"

"Blimey, does he even reach the pedals?" A third one asked with large eyes.

"Shut up!" Big Bear shouted. "We'll go out there and greet him civilly. And no idiotic, snide remarks, he's new."

With those words he pushed himself off the window and hurried towards the door, opened it and stepped out into the cold, followed by the others. And then there they stood, looking the black clothed stranger that had stopped beside his truck when they had left the barrack over from head to toe and for some seconds there ruled silence, nearly uncomfortable silence, but then Frank burst out laughing again, into laugher in which others joined inevitably.

"Blimey, are they in Churchill so poor that they have to admit children behind the steering wheel meanwhile?" He called out, holding his stomach with laugher. "They're really pitiable in that case."

"He's really minuscule!"

"One soft breeze and he's blown away!"

"You think he's still wearing diapers? I'll bring a pacifier next week!"

"You need a microscope to find him, really! You think he's grown hair already?"

"Shut up, maybe he isn't so small. Maybe just the truck is so large!"

"You all shut up!" Big bear thundered with his booming voice angrily. "Are you greeting a new one like this? Where are your manners?"

"Manners? What's that? Can you eat them?" Frank asked, still shaking with laugher

"No, you bugger! They're for drinking!"

"YOU should eat them with a tablespoon and even then it wouldn't help, idiot!" Big Bear barked.

"Whoa, drinking? I always thought you could smoke them!"

"Shut up!" Big Bear roared again while he watched the young new driver closely. Damn, those idiots were on the ball today, with Frank, the idiot, on their lead. If only the little one wasn't irritated easily. But he didn't seem to. He stood there for a while watching the entire scene for a few seconds, and then he turned with a shaking of his head, went to the trailer and started to climb onto the platform, started to unload what had to stay here in the Middle Camp.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**November 2003**

However, the others soon had gathered around, watching him, and they soon had realized that James was moving between the load slithery, sorting out what had to be unloaded and what had to go on to Flat Hollow. And they also soon had noticed that he wasn't as weak as he looked, and most importantly, that he didn't shy the work. What strength he'd had missed, he had compensated with skills and smartness and he had climbed from boxes to boxes and from sack to sack and back again without stopping once as if he'd been driven by an inner restlessness.

That had went on for a few minutes while the other truckers had been standing there, watching him, their arms crossed over their chests, but soon one of them had taken a step towards him, shaking his head.

"Hey, Little One!" He had called over with a thunderous voice. "Slow down and keep your shirt on. We're at work and not at flight." And soon there had been hands over hands to take the boxes and sacks and had reached them to others who brought them inside the storage hall before bringing over the new load – one single mailbag for Flat Hollow.

The small phenomena named James Potter had then been brought into the barrack where a warm meal and a bottle of beer had been placed in front of him.

Once more James smiled at the memory. Today he was used to those monsters, and today he didn't shy back from getting into a quarrel with them. Well, of course not, he got along with nearly all of them, they sometimes made rough jokes, but it were jokes.

"Your CD and you!" Big Bear good naturally laughed with his booming voice. "One can hear you half an hour before you're even here, and one can hear you even if you're already twenty-five miles away! And I don't speak of your engine."

"Nope." Ma added. "But your horrible music!"

"Well, then it's ok." James laughed. "Because Severus always claims it's my big mouth one could hear for miles."

"Your big mouth we can already hear the moment you start in West Hamleton, Little One." Big Bear reprimanded, laughing. "One stupid comment after the other, as if you only had idiocy in that head of yours."

"Did I ever have something else in my head?" James asked back with a frown.

"Jap, whenever you start from Flat Hollow." Ma said smiling. "Then one can hear your hue and cry! But well, it's understandable, Little One. And now see that you get gone or Severus will worry again if you're coming home late!"

"Severus always worries!" James answered with a headshake. "He'll run a circle into the ground even before I've passed Ennadai and Caribou."

"That may be, but if you're not at home shortly after eight, then he'll call _us_. Like a mother hen of a wife that's calling after her husband." Big Bear roared with laugher. "Be careful, one day he'll fill out the divorce papers!"

"Very funny!" James shook his head. "You better be careful. I'll send my wife over to you next week, and then she can nag at _you_ for once! We'll see if you think it so funny then."

"Great, you do just that, Little One." Big Bear nearly lost his balance with laugher now and sat down onto one of the benches before he would have the opportunity to look at the tiles from a closer point of view. "We don't have too much women here after all!"

"Dear Lord, chuck down brains from heaven! What a bunch of idiots!" James called out in frustration while he turned with an exaggerated shaking of his head and wringing of his hands, to leave the barrack.

Big Bear and Worry followed him, still laughing, and between his snickering Worry managed to ask if he now really had everything.

"Yes, even my head." James nodded seriously.

"You idiot!" Worry burst out laughing again. "That one is grown to your neck and shoulders, didn't you realize?"

James stopped mid-step and looked back at him, startled, blinking in irritation.

"Sure?" He seriously asked just as startled and stunned, his face nearly worried. "Couldn't you have told me earlier? It would have saved me a lot of time I spent searching for my head! Thanks for telling me _now_!"

"You're so stupid!" Big bear really had troubles talking meanwhile. "Didn't anyone tell you that?"

"No, but it's nice that you're doing now, thanks for the compliment!"

"You _all_ are idiots!" Ma's voice came from the door. "A bunch of small children!"

"Alright, alright!" Big bear admitted in surrender, slowly calming down before he turned towards James again. "Be careful and keep your eyes open, Little One." His voice sounded serious now and James thought he could hear a hint of worry. "Don't pick up hitchers, and leave the snow mounds on the roadside alone."

"And remember, a short nap behind the steering wheel saves you from getting old." Worry added, still chuckling.

Waving at them James went towards the truck. "I know, I know." He shook his head. "And no alcohol while driving, a small pothole and you're spilling all of it."

"Exactly, Little One!" Big Bear smiled. "And greet your wife!"

"I'll do just that, I'll do!" He called back at them, laughing, while he quickly climbed up the cabin. As if one single hitcher would stand on that route with his thumb stretched out, really! He made himself comfortable, inserted his CD and closed the door, then he waved back once more before he set the heavy truck in motion and turned the music louder.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Damn, it was already six a.m.! An entire hour he now had dawdled away, but well – it just was like that, he couldn't change that now and he gave a content sigh. He was sitting in his warm truck, his music was playing, and he was on his way home. What better could happen now?

Severus!

And really, not even an hour later Severus' voice was heard on the radio.

"James?" The deep and velvet voice asked. "Are you alright?"

James turned down the music and took the mike.

"Yup, everything's alright. You?" He answered.

"The same here, I just wanted to make sure you did not end up in some kind of trouble." He heard Severus' voice again, but – stating the obvious? Severus really must be worried. The older man always hated stating the obvious and he could give one of his more sarcastic remarks whenever he, James, did this. At least he had accused him of getting into trouble regularly, his way of hidnig the fact that he was stating the obvious.

But well, it was a few minutes before eight, Brian most probably had left the house, was on his way to school, and Terry most likely was still sleeping. And so only Severus and Sam were awake. Severus most likely had the washing machine running, the dishwasher emptied, the laundry out of the dryer and in all likelihood already folded. Before Terry wasn't awake he couldn't use the vacuum cleaner, and he couldn't wipe the floors before he had not vacuumed. And so he simply – was _bored_.

"For the hundredth time this week." James answered with a smile. He couldn't see Severus' face right now, but he could bet his behind that the older man looked affected right now. And really, there was a second of silence before he could hear Severus' voice again.

"I only wanted to make sure, it is your first tour this year after all." The dark voice said and James was sure he could hear a hint of an apology in it. Of course Severus didn't want to get on his nerves, just like he, James, didn't want to get on Severus' nerves when he was on the road, but it was hard to resist taking the mike and he knew that. And so he of course wasn't angry or something like that, on the contrary. It was a good feeling that there was someone who cared enough to ask.

"It will be a bit later tonight." He informed Severus, knowing that the other man only would worry himself to death if he wasn't back home at eight and he didn't know why.

"What happened?" Came the immediate question – the dark voice dropping even lower a bit with worry.

"Nothing." James answered with a short grin. "Just forgot my CD in Ma's player and then we got lost in teasing, you know Big Bear and Worry. I started an hour late."

"How in Merlin's name could you have forgotten your CD?" Severus asked and James thought to hear the shock in his voice with exaggerated clarity. "But now you have everything?"

"Yes, I have." Well, he at least though he had. But he better didn't say that aloud.

"Alright." Came Severus' answer, but it sounded hesitant. For a split second there seemed to linger something in the air and for another second there seemed to be hesitancy on the radio itself, but then: "Is something wrong, James?" Severus asked, and he really sounded worried now.

"No, why?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

The feeling he'd had in the early morning hours, the feeling that he had forgotten something important, it had come back already half an hour ago, and it wasn't pleasant. But he still didn't know what it was he could have had forgotten, and that it was what worried him a bit. But he had tried to not show it, and he had to smile. Yes, how well Severus knew him. Damn. Severus definitely knew him _too_ well for his liking.

"Do tell me, Mr. Potter." Severus answered. "You sound … strange, troubled somehow. Are you sure that everything is as it should be?"

James shook his head in frustration.

"Of course I'm sure." He said. "I'm fine and the truck is alright too, most likely I'm just not fully awake yet, it's still dark after all." He gave a sigh for a moment. Yes, most likely that exactly was the only problem, the long darkness here at this time of the year. Well, an hour still, maybe a bit longer, but not much. He already could see the first signs of sunlight on the horizon.

"Alright." Severus answered back, but James was sure that Severus didn't sound as if he really were set at ease. He rather sounded even a bit more agitated than he had a moment ago. "Until later, and do not fall asleep on your way. And call if anything is wrong."

"No, I won't. If there's something wrong then I'll lay down into a snow mound and hibernate." James answered with amusement in his voice and this time he really sounded alright. "Idiot! What else should I do if something were wrong?"

"That sounds like you now." Severus said relieved and James thought he could hear a soft and repressed sigh. "Until later, James."

"'till then." James shook his head while he carelessly threw the mike onto the dashboard, took his packet of cigarettes and fished for one of those coffin nails, like Severus called them, and his lighter.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**December 2003**

With just about fifty miles per hour the truck was crawling across the snowy ice surface, away from the lights that were West Hamleton and into the darkness of the early morning hours on his way to Churchill. Five o'clock. He was in time and in an hour the trailer would be loaded and Severus on his way to the North.

Like always he had emptied the overflowing ashtray with a quick banishing spell and as soon as the cabin was warm enough he opened the window to get out the smoky smell that lingered despite the refreshing charm – however James did this, going against his spells without using one himself. One day he simply would remove the ashtray and would sell it.

He would sell it in e-bay!

Merlin – he started sounding like a muggle!

Yes, James still didn't know that he actually was a wizard – and that his name actually was not James Potter but _Harry_ James Potter – and so of course he hadn't used a spell to go against his own spells and charms, even if it would be something he would not put past the younger man. He had once considered telling James, about three months after they had met first, but the younger man had reacted rather strongly to that. Fear had been one of the strongest emotions James had displayed back then, and it definitely had been fear of him, Severus. And surely not because he was a wizard, because he hadn't told him that – no, it had been the fear that he, Severus, could beat him for something like being a wizard, being abnormal, a freak.

It had taken Severus weeks to get the younger man back to normality and he never ever again had mentioned it.

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**October 1999**

"Ever heard about wizards?" He asked, trying to sound as casually as possible while he watched Potter. "About magic?" He knew that the younger man hadn't been at Hogwarts and whatever he did – he did it the muggle way, as if he didn't know magic.

"Magic isn't real." The nineteen year old answered, scowling at him while he at the same time started trembling, his face becoming pale and Severus could see that something in the other's brain started working.

"So you never did something unusual?" He asked, watching Potter close, watching his reaction to that while he waited for an answer. He knew that it was a strange question, implying that someone actually _had_ done something like magic, it wasn't something one would ask of someone else every day and if Potter really was a muggle or a squib – what he highly doubted – then he surely wouldn't be able to see the implication behind it.

He had wondered since he had first met him after all, and he had watched him since he had first met him after all, and at one point or another he carefully had reached out with his own magic when he had noticed that Potter didn't act like the wizard he was. And he had felt the younger man's magic. Strong magic.

"No!" Potter nearly screamed and the younger man actually took a step backwards, the fear deepening in his green eyes.

"You never made things happen when you were afraid or something like that?" He asked, narrowing his eyes while he took a step towards the retreating boy.

"No!" Was the repeated reply, a desperate shout nearly. "Magic isn't real! And wizards don't exist! I'm just …"

"Calm down, James." He said, taking another step towards the upset young man, trying to calm him. And yet, Potter only got more upset and retreated again, the green eyes panicky meanwhile.

"Listen, Severus." Potter said and he could hear how much it cost him to say those words the boy clearly forced out. "I know that I'm a freak, ok? And I'm sorry 'bout that. But I'm not a wizard! I … just sorry, ok? Please? I'll be good, I promise, ok?"

"It is alright, James." He calmly said, stopping mid-step, his dark eyes still narrowed at the strange reaction.

A freak? He knew this word, he had heard it before, from his own father and he remembered that Potter had grown up with his aunt and uncle, Petunia and her husband, Lily's sister who had hated magic. He also remembered the rumours about Potter being abused and he only could guess that the reason had been Potter being a wizard, having displayed accidental magic in all likelihood.

And now he apologized for being different, promised to be good and pleaded with him, Severus, for it to be ok – or for him to not hurt him. It was a reaction he didn't see for the first time, but it was the first time he saw it from an adult and he sighed.

So Potter definitely knew but didn't want to acknowledge it. But he knew.

"It is alright." He softly, calmly repeated, showing the boy his open hands to show him that he wouldn't harm him. "Just calm down, James. I won't harm you. And no, you are not a freak. You are …"

"Am!" Potter shouted, his entire frame shaking, again taking a step back. "Sorry, 'k? Sorry 'm like this, 'k? Please?"

"You are not, Potter, and there is no reason to apologize." He said, but Potter was already out of the door and a moment later he could hear the door to the younger man's study being thrown shut. Not with a loud bang, but loud enough so that he knew the normally so quiet Potter was more than just upset.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**December 2003**

James had locked himself in his study for three days without coming out and when he had come out, he had looked horrible. Severus had been sure that the young man hadn't slept, nor that he had eaten anything, and he had been worried. He had been worried the entire time while James had locked himself in, had knocked at his door and had tried to talk to him, to make him coming out – until he had noticed the silencing charm around the room, a silencing charm James had cast unconsciously, most likely out of the deep wish for either silence and peace or him, Severus, not hearing him crying.

Back then he hadn't understood, because he hadn't known Potter as well as he knew _James_ now, but he understood today and he knew, and it made him angry and sad, desperate and worried. It still upset him and he never had mentioned it again. He would wait. He would wait until James was ready, more stable, more … more whatever, he didn't know yet.

However, it really wouldn't be too much if James would empty the ashtray himself _just once_, but that was just one of the things James always forgot. He didn't do this intentionally, or because he was too lazy, Severus knew this, James was anything but lazy after all, but simply because he didn't think of it. Just like his sunglasses a few weeks ago.

With a soft and nearly amused chuckling he remembered that incident.

James and his forgotten sunglasses.

Not that this was the only thing worth remembering when it came to James Potter, but it definitely had been one of the more worthwhile memories, one of the reminders of how insane and crazy this boy sometimes could be … and how stubborn.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_The forgotten sunglasses – part two._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:  
**

at the present time it looks like this:

501 Points - Slytherin

460 Points - Gryffindor

414 Points - Ravenclaw

177 Points - Hufflepuff


	7. the forgotten sunglasses - part two

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … I do not have much experience in Harry Potter stories … it is my first one, I have to admit …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

* * *

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**Here and now**

**Chapter seven **

**The forgotten sunglasses – part two**

**November 2003**

Severus placed the microphone of the radio back onto the counter in the kitchen and thoughtfully he turned back towards the table. With a sigh he poured his third cup of coffee this morning and he added a few drops of the stronger headache potion he brewed since a year now to the coffee, stirred the still black liquid lost in thoughts – until Sam's voice came from beside him.

"If you're through the bottom of the cup – I won't clean up the mess of the coffee running over the table." The boy said.

For a moment Severus jumped, startled. He hadn't heard Sam entering the kitchen and that was something that had him upset, because normally he even heard Sam's soft footfalls. But then he got a grip on himself, released the spoon and took a sip of the coffee.

"Good morning, Sam." He then said, placing the cup back at the table.

"Morning." Sam answered, watching him quietly.

He hadn't heard the conversation between Severus and James, but that wasn't necessary. He nevertheless knew that Severus was worried.

"Something's wrong?" He softly asked after a few minutes and again Severus nearly jumped startled – _nearly_, this time, noticing that his thoughts had been drifting off again.

A few seconds he watched Sam over the rim of his cup, but then he placed it on the table again.

"I am not sure." He then slowly answered. "Harry – _James_ – seems to be … worried somehow, I do not know yet. He sounded quieter than normal. Well, everything will be fine." He then added with a sigh and got off the table. "He said he will be late today, by the way. As it seems he has lost an hour this morning, has been joking around with Big Bear and Worry. You know him."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, watching him with nearly narrowed eyes.

"If he just doesn't think he has to keep his record and droves over speed." He then quietly murmured, but this time Severus' hearing didn't fail him and slowly he turned back towards Sam, watching the boy lost in thought.

Had it been that, that had been so strange?

Was it possible that Harry was insane enough to overstep his speed limit just to be home at time? Well – the answer to that definitely was: _yes_! Harry sometimes could be very insane. But on the other hand, Harry was too professional to really take risks, and therefore there – _theoretically _– was no reason to worry. Not really at least. If one ignored the boy's insanity.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon and bathed the until now bluish-white snow into a bright red light, overflowing the dark blue that had dominated the sky until now with a violet that more and more became a red, then orange and finally bright blue and yellow and squinting his eyes Harry started rummaging in his pockets.

But then he held his breath.

No!

That couldn't be true. Not really. Gear for gear he changed them down, became slower and steered the truck to the side of the icy road before he finally stopped while a strange sense of foreboding ran down his spine. He inserted the idle and turned, pulled the backpack he had thrown onto the passenger's seat towards him and rummaged through those pockets as well.

No, nothing. _Nothing_!

Sunglasses! Damn! _Sunglasses_! _Shit_!

_That_ it has been he had forgotten! His sunglasses of all things! Not his damn CD, not his damn cigarettes and not the damn lighter. No, his _goddamn, bloody sunglasses_. One of the most important things out here!

_"Glacial sunburn is the most intensive form of sunburn and snow blindness basically is – a sunburn in the eye."_

He knew that, damn. Why did he remember that blasted lecture now?

_"Bright sunlight and glittering snow crystals are pure stress for your eyes, and especially with the reflection of the snow the UV radiation is up to eighty-five percent higher than normal, and never forget that the UV radiation won't, I repeat, it will not, be stopped by clouds or mist."_

'_I know!'_ Harry thought in frustration. _'I know that! Why did I have to forget that bloody, fucking sunglasses?'_ That really couldn't be true. He surely was just dreaming that right now, but at the same time he knew that he didn't dream. He was sitting behind the steering wheel of his running truck, wide awake, desperately trying to remember where he could have placed his sunglasses.

Quickly he opened the glove compartment. Maybe he had put them in there while being in thoughts, or maybe Severus had forgotten his. But no! _Severus didn't forget something like that_! And really – the darn thing was empty, not a thing in it beside the maps, it was bereft of any items except for the manual, not even dust was covering the bloody thing and the papers in there!

_"Generally the cornea surface of your eyes would absorb this radiation to some extent to protect your eyes, but is the UV radiation too high, like for example in beautiful winter landscapes without any outlines, then it burns – like normal skin – your unprotected eyes – just like a sunburn. The cells of the cornea surface die, the very sensitive nerve endings that lay beneath are exposed and sensitized – very painful, I can tell you, and therefore – snow blindness greetings."_

Very funny. Really _very_ funny.

Well, back then he too had been laughing, just like all the others, but right _now_ he wasn't laughing. Right now he was sitting in his seat and once again he sighed in frustration. But very well, he couldn't change it, he simply had to go on driving as good as possible and angry about himself he threw his backpack back onto the empty passenger's seat, engaged the gear and slowly set his seventy-one tons beneath his behind in motion.

_"Sunglasses therefore are not to be seen as stylish accessory but for really important protection for your eyes. The glasses should be high-quality with a high UV protection. For difficult weather and poor visibility conditions yellow lenses are best suited as they offer at sixty percent of darkening the best contrast. Blue glasses are not suitable, I can tell you, even if the girls like them more than yellow. And please make sure that the filers are neither too bright nor too dark. _

_James! Would you please stop throwing paper snips at Frederic and rather listen? Snow blindness is really serious. You only notice it the moment you have it and it is really unpleasant and can be very dangerous if you're alone out there."_

Damn, he _had_ listened. _He had listened_! Really! And nevertheless he now had forgotten his sunglasses!

"And you'll get wrinkles from squinting your eyes." Big Bear had called out, laughing.

"Exactly, Glen. And while …"

"What's wrong with wrinkles?" James had asked, looking over at Big Bear with a frown.

"And while …"

"Of course they wouldn't bother _you_, you already have enough so that one wouldn't even notice them in your face. Never mind a few more or less wrinkles!"

"And while we're …"

"Look who's talking! Without the fur in and around your face the girls would see that you're not a big teddy bear and run."

_"AND WHILE … we're at it … safety measures against glacial sunburn are sun creams with a high sun protection factor. And don't think that you can only get glacial sunburn while mountaineering."_

His thoughts were racing through his head. What did he read once? In one of the journals he had browsed through a small article, something about dark eyes. Yes, that it had been … hadn't there been something about green eyes too?

_"Although people with dark eyes are more protected by nature because of their multiple layers of pigments which the UV radiation can't penetrate easily, but they as well must pay attention to the protection of their eyes because of …"_

Damn, that too didn't get him anywhere. But maybe he was lucky and nothing happened, after all – _he had_ some kind of dark eyes – some kind, if he took emerald green als dark. Not as dark as some other people, but they were dark, somehow. But as far as he knew his luck …

Damn, now he had worried so much throughout the morning that he now had headaches from that.

Well, he often had headaches, that wasn't anything new, but right now they were really bad and it was the second time within two hours that he had to stop. A few minutes after twelve. Normally he could already be in Ennadai in an hour, but he'd had to slow down because the sun had blinded his eyes. He just had managed forty miles per hour. Great!

And after his headaches had started, around ten o'clock, his speed had decreased to thirty miles per hour even and the Dubawnt Lake – he had passed it at half past eleven instead of shortly before ten. And he still had about hundred miles until Ennadai, in other words and with his current speed – he'd be there shortly before four in the afternoon. The first thing he would do there would be buying sunglasses. Ten minutes later he went on again, frustrated and angry at himself.

The pause hadn't really helped, his headaches hadn't become any better and desperately he ran his hand over his eyes – just when he noticed what he was doing. He was rubbing his eyes, they _itched_. And he had the feeling that they were overstrained. He was tired. No, not he, his eyes were tired. Great, so it was snow blindness after all! Of course, why ever not? Was there anything that could get worse today?

Yes, it could – namely in form of Severus' voice that was heard per radio.

"James?"

Not now! Damn!

Severus would know immediately that there was something wrong. He hated the fact that Severus knew him that well, but if he didn't answer, then Severus would worry just the more and he realized that he hated the fact that Severus always worried over him just as much.

And so he took the mike with a sigh, just the moment Severus' voice sounded a second time, more demanding this time.

"James? Potter! Are you there in Merlin's name?"

No he wasn't! Damn, where should he be if not here? Somewhere in Africa? And what damn obsession did Severus always have with Merlin anyway!

"No! I'm currently laying in the sun somewhere in South Africa, trying to get a tan! Damn, Severus where do you think I could be? I'm still in Canada and until the frontier there are a few miles still!" He answered and to his own surprise his voice sounded rather irritated.

"I apologize." Severus' voice answered after a short moment of hesitance and James was sure that his friend definitely sounded confused and somewhat hurt, and again he sighed in frustration. It hadn't been his intention to hurt Severus, he was just somehow … worried by himself. And he had a headache, not to mention his burning and itching eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said, trying to sound calmer. "I didn't want jumping down your throat. Everything alright over there? Brian's back already?"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus had just been about to ask what Harry would have liked for dinner tonight, and so he had reached for the mike.

"James?"

He waited a little bit when he got no response, then forced himself to wait a little longer, but finally he tried again and even before he spoke he knew that he would not really sound calm.

"James? Potter! Are you there in Merlin's name?"

He had known that James would not be thrilled about his second, more emphatic request, that he would make fun of him perhaps, and he definitely could have lived with _that_. He knew that James didn't like it if he worried over him, just like he himself didn't like it if the tables were reversed. Sometimes he even cursed James' constant need to know how he was, if there was everything alright or where he was and so he would not have held it against him if he had made fun of him now. He wasn't however happy with the answer he actually received.

"No! I'm currently laying in the sun somewhere in South Africa, trying to get a tan! Damn, Severus where do you think I could be? I'm still in Canada and until the frontier there are a few miles still!" James answered and Severus thought his voice was clearly irritated, which was actually quite unusual for the always so calm and rather shy James.

James actually was a man who – easily lost his patience, yes, who definitely could have a temper, that too, yes, but … in the end he wasn't someone who got irritated or even angry often and somehow he knew that the situation wasn't as it should have been.

"I apologize." He finally answered after a second of hesitation, simply because he didn't know what else he could have said. He neither had planned to upset nor to irritate James and he was sorry for doing so nevertheless. Maybe James just had stopped to relief himself – could happen after all.

But after another second of silence he heard: "I'm Sorry. I didn't want jumping down your throat. Everything alright over there? Brian's back already?"

And now he _knew_ that he hadn't just disturbed James while peeing.

James definitely sounded friendlier now, perhaps he had noticed that he was irritated, but there was something else in his voice, something Severus could not exactly classify and that bothered him immensely. _And_ … there was the fact of the '_I'm __sorry'_. This comment about South Africa and Canada was just one he would have had expected of James and he wasn't sure whether he had now apologized for that remark, or for his irritated voice. Not to mention the fact that he had tried to divert attention from the matter while asking for Brian. All in all, nothing that helped to dispel Severus' concerns.

"Yes." He finally answered. "Everything is alright. I only was about to ask what you would like for dinner tonight. It has not been my intention to annoy you."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus' voice sounded lame somehow, as if he would have liked saying or asking something else but which he held back in the end and at the thought that he now would have to tell Severus that he wouldn't have to cook anytime soon, that it would be later than he originally had thought, James quietly groaned and he already could imagine Severus' face when he told him about the forgotten sunglasses.

"Forget it." He finally said.

What else could he do? He couldn't leave Severus in the dark after all. The older man only would run up the walls and alarm anyone possible if he, James, were not at home somewhat in time.

"You better don't wait for me." He therefore said. "It'll be late, eleven or twelve maybe. Just think of something for tomorrow."

He could see Severus' stern face in his mind, could see his piercing dark eyes with which he fixed him, with which he demanded an answer to his unasked question and he was glad that he wasn't really standing in front of him right now. He knew that Severus would fix him with his black eyes until he, Harry, would lower his gaze, would give him an answer. Severus sometimes could be so damn stubborn and he could have a patience like a donkey – if he so wished at least.

But there was something else when it came to Severus.

James really doubted that there could be anyone who would be able to compete with the man concerning the strength of his character and it nearly was impossible to win a staring match against him. He himself never had managed, even if he lasted longer than others. And so – yes, he was very glad that he didn't have to see this particular look in Severus' eyes right now. He was glad that Severus wasn't here in person right now. He would have to face him tonight, and that definitely was soon enough for his liking and again he quietly groaned at that thought.

And then there were those strange things Severus did sometimes. Freakish things, and he had the feeling that he knew those things – or at least that he somehow _should_ know about them, but he couldn't really remember. He just knew that those things were freakish, that he had been punished for doing such things, that he never ever again would do them, never mind how frightened he was.

And it scared the hell out of him sometimes – to know that Severus did them, he was scared for Severus then … and he was scared of Severus then too …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus wasn't particularly pleased and his unease became horror when he heard Harry's answer. "You better don't wait for me. It'll be late, eleven or twelve maybe. Just think of something for tomorrow."

He was silent for a few seconds while his thoughts run ten miles a minute. What was wrong? Eleven or twelve? That meant a delay of three or four hours. He knew that James had started late this morning, but then there were still two or three missed hours left. Was he slower because there was something wrong with the truck? Did he need more pauses because he maybe was tired? Maybe he didn't feel well and needed more time? Or both?

If he just had the younger man standing in front of him now, could watch him. On the other hand – he knew James' stubbornness and he knew that he would have troubles getting the answer he would like hearing out of him – even if he _would_ stand in front of him right now.

James was one of the very few people he knew who were able to challenge him concerning his strength of will, maybe just because he was so stubborn, but that didn't mind. Maybe he liked the younger man as much as he did because of this even. But on the other hand – sometimes that just could be absolutely frustrating.

And just the more difficult it was now to try and _hear_ something out of James' voice over a few hundreds of miles and over the radio. Damn, stubborn idiot!

"_What_ – happened?" He finally simply asked. What else could he do after all? And just like he had thought, the answer he got wasn't really one that set him at ease. Not really that what he had wanted to hear.

"Not much." James answered. "I just have a headache since this morning."

Severus knew that James hadn't told him the entire truth but a part of it only and he sighed in frustration. Sometimes this blasted boy had the very talent for having him, Severus, pulling all the worms out of his nose one by one and that could be something that was absolutely irritating sometimes. And right now was one of those moments.

"Did you have nightmares again?" He asked, just to get _any_ information. Well, he knew that he would get an answer – to exactly this one question, but he wouldn't get an explanation to it either. An answer, nothing more and nothing less. Anything else, well, he could try guessing, he could try questioning, whatever.

"Not really." Was the answer. "However, I just don't plan taking a risk and go on slower a bit."

Severus nodded in satisfaction. Well, at least James was reasonable enough to take his time instead of rushing things just to be at home punctually never mind what.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Did you have nightmares again?" James heard Severus asking and he hoped that it would be that, that he wouldn't go on.

"Not really." _I just forgot my sunglasses and now exactly that which Marion Olson has predicted in his lecture about snow blindness has occurred._

Well, James could imagine Severus' face if he gave him _that_ answer and for a short moment he couldn't help laughing. He nearly would have liked to even standing in front of Severus right now, despite his earlier thoughts, just so that he could give him this particular answer and then watch his face. Again he chuckled. "However, I just don't plan taking a risk and go on slower a bit."

He nearly could hear Severus sighing with relief and he himself relaxed a bit. Alright.

"You have the drops for your headache?" Severus asked.

"Yes, and I already took them, but they didn't help, not really at least." Of course they hadn't helped. His headache wasn't the headache he normally suffered from but caused by that damn, blasted, bloody and forgotten sunglasses and the hence resulting fucking snow blindness. "I'll just try to go on as good as possible."

"How much did you take?" He heard Severus question and he frowned. Of course Severus would question him about that.

"Ten drops in the coffee, like you said." He answered.

"Take ten more." Came the reply but James could hear in Severus' voice that he knew, he wouldn't take them again.

"I'll do, later." He nevertheless promised while he again rubbed his eyes. That really didn't help, on the contrary, but he just couldn't help it, he did this automatically, maybe it was some kind of reflex. "'till tonight."

"Alright, until tonight." He could hear Severus' resigned voice.

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Severus knew that James Bloody Harry Potter wouldn't take more of the potion and nevertheless he just had asked him. James often had headaches and somehow Severus guessed that they had something to do with the … '_accident'_ he'd had six years ago. He had lost his memories back then after all, everything gone, whatever exactly had happened. He doubted that the Dark Lord would have used an obliviate – but on the other hand, it could explain the headaches.

He hadn't known Potter back then. Severus had come to West Hamleton later and had been living in a small motel until Norman, for whom he had worked as a mechanic, had asked James to let him in until he had found a decent flat or small house. Well, back then he had learned that it seemed to be normal in this small village, to just ask people about things. And James himself? Well, he had said yes. Maybe he had been glad to meet a stranger who hadn't known him from his childhood on and of whom he didn't always hear: _"but you have to remember that"_ or _"you really should know that"_ or _"don't you remember how …"_

When Norman had told him, he hadn't known that 'the James' had been _Harry James the_ Potter back then, but the moment he had seen him for the first time, he hadn't cared about that anymore and he had soon learned that James Potter was not James _Bloody_ Potter. This James could be annoying and irritating, definitely, yes, but he wasn't a bully nor anything like that. He was a gentle and kind young man who would give the shirt of his back if necessary.

However, the two of them rather soon had become something akin to friends, had completed each other, and when Severus three months later had found a small flat near the edge of the town, James nearly had looked sad. Nevertheless he – whatever reason for – had asked him to stay only when he had been in the midst of moving out, after he had packed his belongings into cartons and had packed them into the car already.

He had been happy back then. It hadn't really been his wish to leave James, but he hadn't wanted to ask if he could stay either. And finally he had taken comfort in the thought that he could visit James every then and now, he would stay within town after all, it wouldn't be a journey around the world.

And truth be told, he had been a bit surprised when James had made the offer back then and he even had hesitated for a moment, had wondered if – maybe – James had wanted more. But then he had agreed. As far as _he_ knew, James never had been interested in men.

Never mind that, James had often had headaches in the past four years since he knew him and – whatever reason for – he only had taken something for it if he, Severus, had placed it directly in front of him onto the table – and kept standing beside him, his arms crossed in front of his chest and watching him with a scowl – sometimes even with the necessity of a threat.

Yes, he still could be intimidating enough to even get the twenty-three year old Harry James Potter doing as he expected of him.

But it was because of that that he now knew – James wouldn't take the potion he had developed for the younger man a second time. If James had said he had taken it once, then he had done so, he wouldn't lie to him. But that was all, he wouldn't take it a second time, whatever reason for.

He had witnessed it, James' headaches getting worse, really worse. If he only walked on tiptoes, as carefully as possible before he at one point or another lay on the sofa, cramped into a small ball and didn't dare moving because of the pain, his fingers clinging to one of the pillows. He often had tried getting him to take another Aspirin or a second portion of the potion after he had developed it, but James only always had hissed out something barely understandable between gritted teeth that had sounded like – about getting addicted and devouring pills in lack of judgement – and shaking his head in frustration he let his thoughts wander … again …

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_Headaches._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:  
**

at the present time it looks like this:

502 Points - Slytherin

461 Points - Gryffindor

415 Points - Ravenclaw

181 Points - Hufflepuff


	8. headaches

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I just borrow them a bit ...

Uhm ... and well ... sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world ... I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this ... I at least promise to try ...

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... I do not have much experience in Harry Potter stories ... it is my first one, I have to admit ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Here and now**

**Chapter eight **

**Headaches **

**September 1999**

Nearly a month had passed since he had moved in with Potter and slowly but surely they had formed something akin to a friendship. James, who mostly had retreated into his study in the beginning, more and more joined him, Severus, while he himself had started to understand James better and better.

Forty minutes, and then his bread would be finished.

Severus placed the towel beside the oven and left the kitchen. He stepped into the living room, watching James who was sitting on the sofa, bent forwards, his head placed in his hands and he immediately knew that something was wrong. Slowly he stepped closer, his head lowered to one side questioningly.

"James?" He quietly asked, but the boy didn't react, didn't even seem to hear him.

"Potter!" He tried when he didn't get an answer and this time the younger man lifted his head, looked up at him, his face was even paler than it had been during the past week and Severus could see the hands in which James had placed his head trembling.

"What's wrong Potter?" He quietly asked while he still watched him.

James jumped startled and his gaze got guilty, but instead of giving an answer he just closed his eyes with a soft groan.

If just the pain behind his forehead would finally cease a bit, that was all he right now wanted. Maybe then he would be able to finally sleep, maybe then he would be able to think straight and he maybe then would be able to just relax, if nothing else.

But instead the pain in his body increased to a point where he feared he wouldn't be able to bear it anymore without just screaming. And not only his head ached meanwhile, but his back as well, his shoulders, and he felt his blood pressure dropping, calm and regular breathing becoming more and more difficult. He wasn't even able to control the trembling of his fingers or to at least make his face seem relaxed. Damn!

Slowly he lowered his head and placed it back on his palms. Why was he so damn whining? Why couldn't he control himself better?

"Are you alright?" Severus asked once again, but his soft voice only caused James to flinch again.

"Potter!" Severus' voice, which had sounded normal and just a bit questioningly a moment ago, was now worried and quickly James lifted his head once more, ran his hand over his face and silently cursed himself. He simply had to get more control over himself.

Wordlessly Severus stepped to the sofa and a moment later he pulled an armchair over and sat down, leaning forwards a bit, watching the boy with a lifted eyebrow. He still didn't say anything but his gaze again wandered to James' trembling hands.

"_What_ is wrong, Potter?" He just then softly and calmly asked, and yet his voice was demanding, even if he already was sure that he knew the answer. It wasn't the first time that he watched the boy after all, and neither was it the first time that he apparently wasn't entirely well. The understatement of the year, he huffed at himself.

James however only closed his eyes in frustration and clenched his hands into fists while he turned his head, looking away. He had kept his headaches under tight control since a few days now, or at least his reactions to the headaches, had kept them secret from Severus. But meanwhile he had reached a point where he simply wasn't able to do that anymore.

He didn't want the older man seeing his weaknesses, noticing his pains, his fears, but he simply wasn't able to control himself anymore, he simply didn't have any strength left for that anymore. The pain and the fear, fear it never ever again might stop, it had consumed his energy bit by bit and all that had been left _was_ pain and fear, was unsureness and doubts … _weakness_. He was a weakling. He was a failure, nothing else! Just like his uncle always had said!

"Potter! Look at me!" Severus softly ordered, still with a calm voice but still demanding, bidding, his deep, nearly dark voice holding an overtone that didn't allow any rejection and James simply wasn't able to ignore that demanding tone in Severus' voice but really lifted his head. His green eyes looked into the dark ones of Severus who fixed him with his gaze, held his eyes with his gaze while he continued speaking.

"What is wrong, James?" He once more asked. "I know that you are not well – and since a few days now actually. But I have no clue as to what is wrong. So, please – tell me." He quietly asked.

Of course he had an idea, he had learned enough from Mark meanwhile, as well as from Edgar and Norman, and he was a Potions Master after all so he didn't have to grope in the dark, but that was something Harry didn't have to know. However – he didn't get an answer and instead James' gaze drifted off to the wall behind Severus before he closed his eyes again.

Shaking his head the wizard got off the armchair, pushed it aside a bit so he had more room and then he gently placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder to get his attention, to get him looking back at him, but the only reaction he got out of the younger man was a barely noticeable flinch and a suppressed scream of pain that startled him, caused him to take a step back. But immediately he had himself under control again and he once again stepped towards James.

"Alright, that is quite enough of that." He growled more at himself than at Potter, took the boy's shoulders and forced him down onto the sofa until he was laying there.

James' muscles tensed the moment Severus touched him and he had to grit his teeth to keep from giving away another scream of pain, but the moment he finally was laying there – he was able to relax a bit, even if he still had troubles to control the trembling of his fingers, to control his breathing that still was irregular and much too quick.

Shaking his head in frustration Severus sat down onto the edge of the living room table, watching the way Potter draw his knees to his chest while he alternately pressed the heels of his hands and his fingertips to his forehead, trying to find out which of them eased the pain a bit more.

"Do you have anything for the pain?" He asked and finally he got an answer, even if it wasn't one he liked, because the bloody boy shook his head and silently Severus cursed. He hadn't brewed anything since he was here, he hadn't installed the potions laboratory down in the cellar Potter had offered him for use yet and he had no pain reliever left from his stocks. So no – he didn't have anything to ease Potter's pain either. But then he slowly got up.

"Stay where you are and do not even think of getting up by yourself. I will be back in a moment." He ordered and took the blanket from the backrest, throwing it over the huddled form with a grim face before he turned and left the living room with quick steps, hurrying towards the bathroom where he searched through the cabinet. Somewhere within this bloody household here had to be Aspirin or something like that!

But nothing. No medication _at all_.

And so he left the bathroom, crossed the corridor and hurried upstairs, barely keeping himself from taking two steps at once.

When he opened the door that led to Harry's bedroom he hesitated for a moment. He didn't wish to intrude the young man's privacy, but then he shoved those thoughts aside and entered the room, went towards the bedside table.

He searched through the nightstand, but here too – there was nothing. And neither was in the cupboard that stood against the other wall or on the small table, and so he left that room. He once more crossed the corridor and after another moment of hesitation he opened the door to the study of his … of his … _what_?

What exactly was POtter to him, he wondered, even while still he had his hand on the door handle.

His landlord? But he didn't pay any rental fees.

An acquaintance? No, James had become more than an acquaintance, he was sure of that. James had shared everything he owned with him, a stranger, without hesitation, without question of what he would get in turn.

A friend? It could be. Why else would he now be worried like that?

But … why was he worried in the first place?

For another moment he was just standing there, thinking, shaking his head about himself. _What exactly_ had made him worrying about Potter so much? About Harry, bloody Potter, James Potter, about the son of his childhood nemesis. He knew him since not four weeks and that wasn't much time, not to mention that Potter really was a strange man, just like Edgar and Norman had said, just like the boy himself had said. But he had grown to like this weirdo.

But – liking him or not – could one after four weeks already speak of a – _friendship_?

He really kind of liked Potter, as strange as it was, and he didn't want him being unwell, he was worried and he …

Yes, he was a friend.

But he was Snape! He was Severus bloody Snape and Severus bloody Snape didn't have friends!

And yet, he had …

Even if it was really strange, but … he couldn't deny it, _James was_ his friend.

But when had this friendship started? At which point had he turned from a simply cohabitant to a friend? What had happened? And most of all … _when_? But he didn't find an answer to this question. Neither to the _why_ nor to the _when_ and shaking his head again he opened the door – and now he really couldn't keep from smirking.

This room was a complete and utter catastrophe.

CDs, books, journals and empty packets of cigarettes covered the table, the shelves and the floor. A headset was laying carelessly on an armchair, beside an overflowing ashtray. Another ashtray, filled over the brim, was beside the monitor on the desk, a sticker on the thing calling his attention.

'_The computer is the solution – now we only need a problem'_, he read and he lifted his eyebrow. He had learned enough of such sayings meanwhile since he lived in the muggle world.

However, here too – he found nothing that would help him right now, in this particular moment. No painkillers, no medications at all, but instead he found something else while he was searching.

Prescriptions. Prescriptions, issued by James' doctor, prescriptions for painkillers, downers and some other things he didn't know of, never had heard of. And some of those prescriptions were even older than four years. Potter never had redeemed them and slowly Severus began to realize that he really would find nothing within this household. Once more he cursed, louder this time, while he left the room, entirely frustrated.

Alright! A cold cloth and a glass of cold water would have to do right now until he had been driving to West Hamleton to get a package of Aspirin. Damn! He himself didn't have anything for headaches as he barely needed such. He sometimes had headaches but barely to such an extent. His last really worse headaches had been … more than three months ago, shortly before he had left Nevada.

With a wet flannel and a glass of water he went back into the living room, sat down onto the edge of the table and placed the glass beside himself onto the tabletop. Once more shaking his head, in confusion this time, he took Potter's wrist, pulled his smaller hand from where the boy had placed it against his forehead and replaced it with the wet flannel.

"You do know that there is no human being as bull-headed, obstinate and stubborn as you are?" He questioned in a whisper. Potter pressed the cold cloth tightly against his forehead while he looked over at him, again without giving an answer. "You are even more stubborn than is a donkey! You are as stubborn as Joshua always had been!" Severus continued accusing him, but a smirk washed over his face while he remembered his old friend.

Quickly James looked aside and he still didn't give an answer. He didn't wish disturbing Severus' thoughts, he himself knew how important memories of old and lost friends were after all.

"What do you think you are doing, young man?" Severus' soft and serious voice startled him and he sighed when the older man reached for the glass of water on the table, pressed it into his free hand.

"Just drink instead of brooding!" The Potions Master ordered with his deep voice while James watched the clear liquid warily and he dipped the bottom of the glass a bit to get the boy drinking. "It is plain water only!" He added with a scowl on his face before he got off and left the living room. James surely had a thermal pack somewhere in his freezer.

But even while he opened the freezer he heard the clattering sound coming from the living room and hastily he closed the door to the bloody thing and hurried back – that had been the glass as it seemed.

James – as it seemed – had tried to get up and the glass had slid through his fingers, had fallen to the floor and he reached the young man just the moment he slumped forwards, slid from the sofa and he just in time managed to catch the young man on his shoulders before he would hit the ground – and ending up in the shards.

The boy's face was as white as the wall behind him and the moment he was sitting with his back to the sofa he pulled close his knees, hunched together and again he lifted his hands, pressed them against his hurting forehead.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Severus asked, shoving the shards of the glass to the side with his foot and knelt beside the bloody boy. "I told you to stay where you are, but you never listen! I told you, stubborn and insufferable! That is what you are, Potter!"

Shaking his head he pulled the boy up the moment he felt it safe to do so and seated him back onto the sofa. "And now you will stay here!" He once more ordered, watching the young man with a scowl on his face. How did this young man manage to unsettle him so much? He wasn't the kind of man that got unsettled easily. He wasn't the kind of man that gut upset so easily, that lost control over himself or his emotions so easily – ever! But Potter … James had awoken this side of him, this side he never before had allowed himself to display, Never, aside from … no one except of Joshua – and Lily – had ever known this side of him and the expression in his normally rather hard and indifferent dark eyes got soft.

Maybe it had been that, a binding to James that nearly seemed preordained by fate, that had caused this friendship and with a sigh he looked back at his … friend.

James was laying there, huddled into a small ball, his fists pressed against his forehead and Severus could see the veins protruding on his pale neck while he tried to somehow obtain control over his pain and right now he would like cursing the blasted boy's damn stubbornness loudly, but he knew that it only would worsen the situation and so he rather tried to get himself back under control, taking a deep breath before releasing it slowly.

"Try to stay calm." He whispered while he carefully sat onto the edge of the sofa, softly running his fingers over the pale face. "It will pass, trust me. Keep your eyes closed and try to sleep."

James didn't react, had enough on his hands to try controlling his pain and Severus simply couldn't shove the memories of Joshua to the side, and finally he got off.

He hadn't been able to help Joshua, but here was laying someone he _could_ help, someone that was so much alike Joshua, and he would not fail him like he had failed Joshua.

Of course he knew that Potter wouldn't die, he wasn't stupid after all and he wasn't _that_ desperate, but he was laying there, in pain, and he only could guess how helpless he must feel right now. And so there was only one thing he could do and taking the phone he left the living room, dialling Doc Carrington's number.

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It had been a long day and Joe Carrington was just about to prepare a late night snack after which he would slip beneath his blanket, and maybe he would be able to persuade his wife to … maybe – and with this thought he poured himself a glass of milk, gathered his sandwich and took both towards the living room where the telly still was running.

He would watch the late night news while he would enjoy his sandwich and his milk before he would turn off the telly and …

While he crossed the corridor the telephone was ringing and cursing silently he stopped mid-step, put the plate with the sandwich onto the commode and took the receiver – after he had watched the ting angrily.

"Carrington." He answered the call with a – despite his bodily mass – soft and gentle voice.

"Snape." He heard the answer on the other end of the line. "Good evening."

Snape …Snape … damn … who was Snape? He knew everyone here, he was the only doctor in West Hamleton after all, but Snape … no, he didn't know …

Ah … wait … Snape! Of course, James' new cohabitant – or should he say … friend?

This one hadn't visited him yet. Since a few months or something like that he lived here in West Hamleton now. He had seen him a few times, the last time at the beginning of the week. He had looked healthy back then.

A man in his best years … no overweight … maybe a bit skinny, but stringy and tough, most likely stronger than he looked … sure and agile movements … alert and keen eyes … pleasant and calm voice … curiously he lifted an eyebrow.

"I apologize for the late disturbance." The velvet voice said.

_No problem, boy. You don't seem to be one that constantly complains about this and that. Within a handful of months you really are allowed to call. But does that have to be in the middle of the night?_

"But Mr. Potter is not well." The voice continued.

_So it was Potter. Not for the first time, but he wouldn't accept help anyway._

"What's wrong with him this time?" He asked aloud.

Stupid question, he could imagine. Headaches, or backaches, maybe even both meanwhile – and added to that maybe his anxiety disorder calling up meanwhile too, with flashbacks and panic attacks. Yes, most likely.

"He is in pain." He heard Snape answering. "And I cannot find anything in that bloody house that would help."

_Of course not, Mr. Snape. It really would surprise me if you found find any medications in his household, my foreign friend._

He had prescribed any medications to no avail so far. As far as he knew, Potter hadn't redeemed just one of them. However, he could have sworn that Snape's voice until a few moments ago had sounded calm, but now there definitely was an undertone of panic to be heard.

"Headaches or backaches?" He calmly asked. "How bad is it and since when?"

"Headaches. He has them since a few days even if he tried to hide them and they meanwhile seem to be really bad. His hands are trembling, his breathing is much too quick and he does not look good at all." Harry's friend answered and somehow his deep voice seemed to become more and more worried.

"Try speaking with him." He calmly said. So, Snape's weak point seemed to be Potter. Good. Very good even, and he nodded his head in satisfaction. Potter needed someone like this, someone who cared for once.

"He should drink a cup of coffee, place an ice bag on his neck and for all I care he might even smoke a cigarette if that helps him to relax. I'll be there in about thirty minutes." He answered and put the receiver back.

Well, that it was with his snack, and that it was with this nice, warm bed, _and_ that it was with persuading his wife for doing more than just sleeping peacefully tonight. Until he was back home his wife would be sound asleep and he would risk his life if he tried waking here then.

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Thirty minutes! _Thirty minutes_! Thirty minutes were over and Doc Carrington still wasn't here. And James' condition had worsened more and more. His entire body was tense and pent-up, even if he didn't touch him, and his T-shirt, the blanket he had thrown over him earlier, his hair, everything was soaked, drenched in sweat.

He had brought him a cup of coffee, he even had brought him – despite his usual believes – his cigarettes, and he had tried talking to the boy, had tried to loosen the stiff muscles on James' neck, but it all had been in vain and he simply wasn't able to really keep the brat calm anymore, to distract him from his pain anymore.

Damn! Where did this blasted idiot of a doctor keep himself? He should be here meanwhile!

Once again Severus looked over at the trembling form that was laying on the sofa in a tight ball, a bit too pale for his liking and his face tense with the attempt to control his pain, to hold still, while he every now and then held his breath, his body over and over tensing up with the pain. And with every minute that went by Severus could see James getting more desperate and even angry, angry at himself, could see how he slowly but surely lost the strength to control his pain any longer, to control himself, whatever.

If this blasted idiot of a doctor didn't come soon he simply would pack the brat into the car and bring him to West Hamleton himself. What kind of slugabed was this blasted doctor? It didn't take him any longer than teen minutes to West Hamleton! Alright, maybe it did, but surely not longer than fifteen minutes! And right now half an hour was up!

Just the moment when Harry gave away a scream of anger and hit his arm against the backrest of the sofa out of pure frustration, maybe just to give vent to his pain one way or another, Severus heard a loud knock on the door. Finally! Doc Carrington! And surely not a moment too soon! With a relieved sigh he left the living room and opened the door.

Joe Carrington stepped inside, gave a curt nod towards Severus and went straight towards the living room. So – he didn't seem to be here for the first time, the Potions Master noticed and followed him with some interest.

"Good evening, James." Carrington greeted and the young man immediately threw an angry gaze at Severus. "No, no, my boy. _He_ doesn't have anything to do with this." The corpulent man chuckled lightly. "I just know _you_ and I thought – why don't you take a look at this damn, stubborn, young Potter. Look, it's long since that I've seen you and if _you_ won't visit _me_, then _I_ will have to visit _you_. But I can promise you, my boy, I won't do that often. _And_ it will cost you some extra pennies. And by the looks – I'm just in time!"

He'd sat down onto the living room table, just like he'd done before, while talking, calmly and comfortably, and he had ignored James' angry gazes completely. Carrington seemed to be used to the blasted idiot's angry gazes and stubbornness and Severus watched him with some interest while he leaned against the doorframe of the living room, his head lowered to one side and his arms crossed in front of his chest, his black eyes nearly amused. So – there was someone that was quite capable to stand up to Potter's stubbornness and contumacy and he lifted his eyebrow expectantly. This could become interesting.

"Alright." Carrington pointed at James. "And as I'm here already, we might as well talk about your pains." He added, watching Harry with a demanding gaze.

"What pain?" James growled indignantly.

"Your headaches – maybe?" Carrington asked.

"Don't have." James answered, still growling.

"Then your backaches." The nearly white haired man said, still watching James calmly and patiently.

"Don't have them either." James hissed angrily, his brows furrowed with annoyance.

"Why, but that's very good!" Carrington said happily. "That's something new for a chance. Then you have stomach aches!" His voice definitely didn't sound as if he would play a game of guessing that only was time-consuming and soul-destroying, but rather as if he would sit together with a friend for sipping on a tin of beer and telling jokes. The nerve of that man!

"And who says that I even have any?" James tried to look as relaxed as possible when he sat up straighter and Severus snorted at the attempt, causing the boy to glare at him for a moment.

"Your pale face …" Carrington suggested.

"I'm just tired!"

"… your tense movements …"

"Are caused by unwelcome visitors!"

"… the perspiration on your skin …"

"It's just warm in here!"

"… your irregular and too quick breathing …"

"Is caused by me being angry!"

"… the trembling of your fingers …"

"Just because I have to restrain myself to not wring your neck!"

"… and last but not least – your _bad temper_!"

"Just leave me alone, all of you! Until now I was just fine after all!" Potter's voice was impatient and irritated he shook his head, what however made him groaning softly, giving himself away and he pressed his fingers onto his forehead in frustration.

"Except for your pains." Carrington said with a triumphant voice. Not that he hadn't already known, but he – again – had brought Potter to a point where he had given away himself and he knew that Potter knew that just as well. He wasn't even surprised that the young man didn't give him an answer this time but just gazed at him furiously.

"So, let's start over from the beginning." Carrington said with an amusedly raised eyebrow and Severus really started to like that man. "If I'm here already, we might as well talk about your headaches." Hadn't they been at that point already this evening? "_And_ … don't deny them again!" He added louder the moment Potter angrily lifted his head and took a breath to deny anything.

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It only took a few minutes until Doc Carrington got off and watched Harry disapprovingly and with a shaking head.

"As I already know you enough to know you won't redeem a prescription anyway, I've brought the painkillers. I'll give them to your friend here however, because you would only throw them away without taking them. And I've brought a downer as well, just in case. Oh no! Shut up, boy! I don't want to hear anything from you, young man! You will take them and on Friday evening I wish to see you in _my_ territories. Friday evening, five o'clock. And don't forget about it, and do _not_ miss the appointment intentionally either, I'll wait for you!"

With those words he pointed at Harry and then turned, left the room with a "good night and try to sleep" before he left the house, once more turning towards Severus who had been following him with a smirk on his face. "Make sure that he takes the painkillers." He said. "The downers, be careful with them, he doesn't react too well to them. Just give them to him if there's no other way. And remind him at his appointment on Friday evening at five in my terrain, bring him over yourself if you must."

When Severus nodded Doc Carrington finally left the house, got into his car with a sigh and Severus closed the door behind the man, went back to the living room, thinking, while he read through the prescribing information – with a frown. He didn't really like some of the things mentioned there and considering that this headaches or whatever aches they were, appeared rather often – he would have to brew his own pain relieving potion. There wouldn't be any side effects with that one after all.

When he looked at Harry the young man turned his head aside and gazed at the wall, and he was sure that he didn't read anger in his green eyes but unsureness and … was it really embarrassment he could read in them? But if – then why?

Shaking his head in irritation he took a new glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, seated himself onto the edge of the table and reached one of the pills towards Harry.

But the younger man didn't think in his best dreams on taking the medication but instead turned his head to the side again and Severus sighed in resignation. Just like Joshua! Exactly the same! Stubborn like … but then he couldn't help smirking, he just couldn't keep himself from doing so.

"Alright … _James_ … you will listen to me now and you will listen closely." He finally said with his deep and velvet voice, speaking slowly and calmly, softly, as if he would enjoy each and every single word. "You have exactly two possibilities now … _my friend_. You either will take this here now by _free will_, or I simply will _make_ you, and believe me, I would really enjoy this."

James turned his head back to Severus who was sitting in front of him at the edge of the table. He watched him for a few seconds, considering his next move, considering his chances, but then he lifted his eyebrow and slowly, carefully, shook his head – nevertheless, despite how slowly and carefully he had shaken his head, he couldn't help grimacing with pain.

Once more Severus sighed, but still smiling – _smirking_ – however. Why had he known this?

"No?" He asked and his soft and calm voice sounded nearly dangerous. "I thought so. You do not believe that I really _would_ make you. And you do not believe that I even would be _able_ to. But I am, _my friend_, believe me. I absolutely know how to handle such a situation."

James watched back at Severus with squinting eyes. He wasn't really surprised, he always had known that somewhere within Severus there was something evil. Severus sometimes could be so damn menacing and sneaking and he since long knew that the man's indifferent mask and calmness only were to hide his evilness.

"You know, I had enough experience with Joshua. Look, he always had refused to drink the tea his father had made for him, but I've found a way to get this brewage into him. And so I actually do know how I get those damn pills into _you_!"

But again Harry turned his head away, averting his eyes, not answering, and Severus nodded towards himself. "Alright." He said, still smirking, even chuckling softly. "Alright, just give me a few minutes so I can call Mark and Norman. And maybe Edgar as well. I am sure he too would like watching."

Immediately Harry's head snapped back at Severus and he looked at him with a deathly glare. "You won't dare that." He finally answered, pointing at the older man, shaking his head despite the pain.

But Severus only smirked at him. "Why ever not?" He asked, reaching one of the pills at the younger man. "You can take this here by free will, and then it will stay between the two of us, or I will force them down your throat, but before that I will call Mark and Norman. The decision is yours."

Still Severus was smirking at him and it was a sneaky smirk, friendly, but sneaky, while he slowly reached for the phone that lay on the table, watching James daringly, and James knew that the older man would go through his threat. Severus was alright, he really was, but he also knew that he never should underestimate him. He could see it in the man's black eyes, the look in those dark and deep black eyes wasn't just absolutely calm, but absolutely sure as well, just like his movements, they not only were calm, but absolutely sure as well. Damn, the man's entire appearance was calm and sure.

Why had he never noticed this? Well, of course he had noticed, but never like that, so intensely like in this very moment and for a few seconds he blinked in irritation.

Severus' entire person radiated such sureness, stability and confidence, such strength and some kind of power, it nearly was frightening. The calm but piercing gaze of those black eyes, the soft but deep and demanding voice, the calm and yet strong movements … yes, Severus was a man he did not wish having as an enemy. From one second to the other he realized that and he wondered what exactly would Severus be able doing … what would Severus be ready doing …

If it really came to the worst … what exactly would Severus be able doing? But at the same time he knew that maybe he better didn't wish for an answer to this question, not really and deep within him he hoped that he never would find out – because he somehow knew that this man would be able to kill if necessary.

Of course he didn't _have_ Severus as an enemy, and he really doubted that Severus really would harm him right now. But he was in a rather uncomfortable situation from which Severus definitely would not release him and he knew _that_.

He stopped his irritated blinking, watched the older man with an as sure and strong as possible gaze and …

With horror he noticed that he already was starting dialling a number, still watching him, James, expectantly.

Was it Mark's number? Or Norman's? Or … damn shit … that was so very unimportant right now whose number … hastily he took the medication the blasted man still reached at him, took the glass of water and took two sips to get that bloody stuff down and finally he threw another angry gaze towards Severus who still smirked at him, a satisfied smirk this time.

"And where was the problem now, Mr. Potter?" He asked, brushing a strand of his black hair out of his face, lowering his head to one side and even if he still was angry, James couldn't help but shaking his head. Theoretically – there hadn't been any problems – except of his stubbornness.

Severus took the glass of water out of Harry's still trembling fingers and placed it onto the table.

"And now try to sleep. I will stay." He said, fixing the green eyes that still watched him while he gently forced James back onto the pillow on the sofa. "I will sleep here tonight."

"But why?" James asked, shaking his head in irritation, what only caused another wave of pain to rampage behind his forehead while he watched Severus with insecurity clearly written all over his face.

"Because you are my friend – as much as those words pain me, you idiot! And now sleep!"

Slowly and thoughtfully James nodded while he closed his eyes. He knew that it would take some time until the pain killers would work, but in the end he finally would be able to sleep after all and relieved he sighed. If he liked it or not, Severus had been right, like always, and he allowed his thoughts to wander.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_Mark Santana's story._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

At the present time it looks like this:

502 Points - Slytherin

461 Points - Gryffindor

416 Points - Ravenclaw

182 Points - Hufflepuff


	9. Mark Santana's tale

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Here and now**

**Chapter nine **

**Mark Santana's tale**

**November 2003**

Once more shaking his head in lack of understanding Severus remembered this instance but he immediately got serious again. If it just didn't get as bad now while he was on his way alone as it had been back then, because that could end badly, and worrying he got off the table, starting to run back and forth in the kitchen.

James had been sleeping that evening, but during the night he had been woken by his aching body every now and then and Severus had been glad about his decision to spend the night in the living room to have an eye on the brat. James' face had been tense and pale even in sleep, in his sleep that had become more and more restless during the night.

He had woken again at one point or another during the early morning hours, but this time he somehow had become panicky. Whatever he had been dreaming, it surely had not been about pink sheep on a green lawn with colourful flowers and a cuddly sheepdog. He'd really had troubles getting him at least calm enough so that he had understood he was laying at home and on his sofa instead wherever he had thought he would be.

And when James' eyes finally had been awake and clear somewhat, Severus had given him another painkiller and the glass of water from the table, but the younger man's hands had trembled so much that he hadn't been able to hold the glass and he had watched his facial muscles tightening while he gritted his teeth – with pain or frustration, he hadn't known back then. While at the same time he'd had the feeling that the younger man somehow had seemed to fear something while he – again at the same time, seemed to know that he wouldn't be able to deal with whatever he feared.

He hadn't known what exactly it had been, but Severus had felt the fear … the frustration and the desperation that had radiated from Harry – from James – had nearly felt it bodily, and once more the hair on his neck stood tall while he remembered this moment of worry, of horror when he had been watching the young wizard that didn't even know that he was one, and he had wondered more than once what exactly it had been that James had feared.

Softly he had called the young man by his name.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**September 1999**

"James?" He sotfly asked, still watching him, but the young man just looked at him, shaking his head wordlessly. His face still was pale and tired, tense, and he looked as if he would fold forwards like a jack-knife at any moment.

James took a deep breath and pressed his lips together, pressed his hands into tight fists. He could feel how his headaches as well as his backaches that had accompanied his headaches long since took control again and he could feel the fear creeping up once more, the frustration, and he tried to get himself back under control. But he didn't manage, on the contrary, memories came to his mind, unbidden. Not memories in form of pictures, no definitive or clear pictures he could use as knowledge, as a basis to remember his past, but rather memories in form of emotions, but they weren't positive emotions he seemed to remember. Fear and pain were all that seemed to exist within his memories, fear, panic and horror, pain, and he felt as if everything seemed to get out of his hands.

This wasn't allowed to happen! Damn, that simply wasn't allowed to happen! Never mind how, and he straightened up, forced himself to get back the upper hand. At least he tried.

He himself didn't notice how he slowly slipped off the sofa and he didn't even notice that he hit his head against the edge of the tabletop when he toppled forwards. All he noticed was a short skipping of his environment, that everything around him suddenly became black and even Severus' startled voice he just perceived as if coming through a wall of cotton.

"Potter!" Severus called out, startled, while he quickly reached over and grasped the young man's shoulders before he would hit the ground as well, but again instead of an answer Harry reared back, shaking his head and lifting his arms to protect himself.

"Let me help you, Potter, damn!" Severus softly demanded, trying to read the pale face, trying to find out what exactly the problem right now was. Why was Potter flinching back from him? "Please." He added just as softly. He was irritated and he was frustrated. Unsurely the younger man looked at him for a moment, but then he slowly closed his eyes and allowed Severus to pull him up, to seat him back onto the sofa and he could hear him sighing with relief.

"What are you doing?" He called out when James kept sitting on the sofa, cross-legged, bent forwards. "Lay down! As little mass as you have on your bones you are too heavy for my liking to pick you up from the floor all the time."

For a nearly endless second the bloody boy didn't react, but then …

"I'm fine." He finally murmured quietly.

"Yes, you definitely look perfectly fine." Severus gave back sarcastically, gently forcing the smaller form down onto the pillow. When he noticed that Potter seemed to be calm once more, seemed to have himself back under control, he again reached over the glass of water together with the painkillers while he didn't leave his eyes off him and he withstood the temptation to sigh with relief once again when the brat took both. "You really are an irritating and infuriating imbecile, Potter, I hope you know that." He said instead.

Guilt washed over James' face for a moment, but then he sighed in resignation. Yes, damn, he knew. And he was sorry for this, but sometimes he just didn't know how to react. He simply didn't know. It never was his intention to irritate others like that, it wasn't his intention to anger people or to upset them, to confuse them.

He hated it, being so whiny and acting so stupidly, he would like to … damn, he just wanted to be normal, like anyone else, like Severus. But he didn't know how and while he lowered his gaze guiltily he allowed the older man to take the glass out of his hands, leaned back into the pillows the other man had been piling there. For a few minutes he laid there, motionlessly, but then his gaze wandered to his fingers that were playing with the hem of the blanket Severus had thrown over him, nervously, and he even could feel the man's dark and harsh eyes following his gaze.

With a raised eyebrow Severus took the blanket from Potter's fingers and pressed the smaller, tense hands onto the cover.

"You do know that you are the most complicated and difficult person on this earth." He asked with a soft voice, still holding the younger man's trembling hands. "I think there is no one existent within this world that is as stubborn as you, Mr. Potter."

The softly spoken words startled James and slowly he looked over at Severus, ran a trembling hand over his face. But he didn't answer. He just was too tired and not even he himself was sure if he was about to lose consciousness or if he just was about to fall asleep. Never mind, he didn't care, not really at least. The only thing he right now wanted was closing his eyes.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Not sure if Potter had simply fallen asleep or if he had lost consciousness at all Severus threw a second blanket over the still body, wondering if he should call Doc Carrington once more while he cursed anything and anyone, including Potter and himself. He worried about what had happened just a moment ago – or rather throughout the entire day. That bloody boy actually had slid off the sofa, hadn't even realized that he had hit his head at the edge of the table, for Merlin's sake! And he worried about the fact that Potter hadn't gotten better despite the painkillers.

And right now the younger man had been gone to sleep from one split second to the other. No one could fall asleep that quickly – he at least thought so. It at least never had happened to _him_. He however had lost consciousness a few times during his times as a spy, and it had looked like it had felt somehow.

Bloody Potter! Damn!

Joshua and he had done a lot of stupid things together and they had dragged each other back to Hopedale more than once. Well, mostly he had been dragging Joshua home. However, each time Douglas had given them a lecture that had their ears ringing, if one of them came back home not entirely uninjured. Had given them a lecture about how important and valuable human life was, how important it was to keep them well and uninjured, always asking them if they never would learn any sense of dangers and self-protection.

But in the end he always had patched them up nevertheless and afterwards he had – very much to their regret – ordered bed rest. And he had been sure that it had been to just bullying them for a bit, to punish them for a bit more. But right now there was no Douglas here who could help them and not even in their worst times had Joshua looked as pale as Potter looked just now – except in the night when …

Damn, that was not up for comparison! Potter wasn't well, alright, but he would survive! And it also would pass.

And nevertheless he now worried and he wished that Joshua's father were here right now. Douglas would know what to do. This night had already taken a turn Severus liked less and less and his worries only grew with each minute.

It was startling how quickly he had learned to love this stubborn fool and with another sigh he sat down into one of the armchairs, placing his head into his hands. Slowly he watched back onto the still form on the sofa beside him, into the pale face. Dark rings had appeared beneath his eyes and he could see perspiration covering the pale face, could see the fingers trembling even now, in his sleep, and his frustration only grew.

_If_ Potter was sleeping, so his body had peace and time to rest – whatever from he had to rest. So – _why_, what reason for, did there seem to be the opposite the case? Didn't he sleep? Not really at least? Maybe he had become really ill somehow? And once more he cursed anything and anyone, including himself and the younger man. He didn't know what exactly was wrong, didn't know where this situation would end and it frightened him. He wanted the bloody brat getting better and taking a deep breath he ran his hand through his hair.

It had been a long time since he had felt as bad as he did right now. Damn, he really was scared somehow and he felt helpless. He couldn't do anything, couldn't take any initiative, he only could sit there and … do nothing … just watch. And that was something that scared him just the more.

He wasn't used to standing by idly, to leave anything to chance, to lose control in a dire situation, to feel so helpless. That wasn't his ways and he wasn't that kind of person.

And finally he got off the armchair, jerkily, took the phone and casting a silent alarm that would alert him in form of a tingling on his neck if Potter woke, he left the room, stepped into the dark kitchen. He hesitated for a split second, but then he dialled Mark's number. Mark would know more – maybe – at least that was what he hoped.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Whoever is idiotic enough to call me out of bed in such an hour should have a rather very good reason or will die even before he has the slightest chance counting to three." Severus heard the sleepy rant on the other end of the line and despite his restlessness and worries he couldn't help smirking.

"My apology, Mark." He answered. "It is me, Severus."

"Severus? Damn! Can't you lay in bed in the middle of the night like any normal people, sleeping? Are you crazy? Go back to bed and sleep!"

Again Severus couldn't help smirking for a moment but he immediately got serious again.

"Listen, Mark." He said. "I have a problem with James."

"And so you … damn! Severus! Then just pack your things and sleep in the car, or take a room in the motel – but _let me sleep_!"

"Mark! Damn! I do not have an argument with him. James is not well and I do not know what to do anymore. As much as it pains me to admit that, but I am worried over him. I think he is in a really bad condition and there are a few … there are things … just get up and come over, you will get a coffee after all." Severus asked and to his own frustration he could hear the hint of desperation in his own voice.

"Alright, Snape." Mark answered, sounding awake suddenly. "I'll be over in half an hour." That was all and he didn't even say good by before ending the conversation.

Severus sighed heavily while he placed the phone onto the kitchen table. Coffee! That was the first thing Mark would need and he put the coffee powder into the filter before he started the coffee maker. Was he doing the right thing here? Potter hadn't told him anything about himself, had even led his attention anyplace else whenever he had asked questions. But there simply were those things … Potter's strange behaviour sometimes, his unsureness and insecurities which he tried to hide, which Severus however nevertheless noticed.

He had watched Potter close during the past weeks and he soon had learned that the boy wasn't well, that he only displayed a mask in front of him and if he was honest with himself – then he already had known since he had seen him for the first time, back then, on the veranda behind the house. And he also always had known that the younger man wasn't quite right in the head, somehow.

But during the past weeks he had been able to watch how he sometimes was better and sometimes worse, whereat those '_worse'_ at the same time got worse each time and more frequent, while the '_better'_ got less good each time as well and became less frequent. And he also had been able to watch Potter, how he had tried to hide his lows, had been able to watch him how he over and over again had tried to control himself as good as possible, whenever he, Severus, entered the room or whenever he looked over at him.

He had noticed that Potter sometimes had been ruled by such a restlessness that he started thousand things at the same time without finishing them, without even remembering what he had been about to do a moment ago. He didn't see things that were laying directly in front of his eyes and he sometimes didn't hear when Severus spoke to him, even if he stood directly beside him, only Merlin knowing where the young man's thoughts were residing then. He didn't seem able to concentrate on _anything_ and during the past days it had become worse with each day that had passed. And the more nervous he got, the more clumsy he got, the less he was able to control himself, and the less he had a grip on himself, the more nervous he got at the same time. It was a futile, an unwinnable situation in which he was turning in circles.

Severus still was deep in his thoughts when there was a knock on the veranda door and he needed half a second to realize that Mark Santana had arrived, a bit sooner than he had promised even and quickly he got off the table, opening the veranda door and allowing the police officer in.

"Good morning, Mark." He greeted him. "I do thank you for your quick arrival."

"No problem." Mark answered, yawning. "But next time – please – not in the middle of the night."

"I will try." Severus promised.

"Just give me a cup of your evil brewage you call coffee so I'll get awake finally." Mark scuffled through the kitchen and sat down at the table while Severus took two cups from the board above the counter and brought them over to the table together with the coffee pot.

"Well, what's wrong with James?" Mark asked the moment Severus had taken a sip of the hot drink and he followed his example – after he had taken milk and sugar into his cup.

"That is the question I originally had intended asking of you." Severus said, lifting his eyebrow while he felt even more helpless than a moment ago. Now that Mark was here – he didn't know how to begin, didn't even know if it was the right thing what he was doing here, but then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and when he reopened them and looked at Mark, the words came out nearly by themselves.

"Listen, Mark. You know James and you surely know that he sometimes is strange." He started with a voice that was calm again. "I know that – James simply is James, but nevertheless, there are some things I would like to understand. He is harming himself with his actions over and over again not to mention that he is more stubborn than is a blasted donkey. He does not look out for himself – never mind in which relation – even if he knows exactly that it is the eleventh hour. On the contrary. Sometimes I have the feeling that he _then_ just the more refuses doing what would be the right thing."

When Severus made a pause, watching him closely, Mark nodded but he didn't give an answer. He just nodded, watching him wordlessly, asking him to go on and Severus lifted his eyebrow, knowing what Mark was doing, but then he continued.

"Since a few days now he is an absolute catastrophe." He said. "He is barely sleeping, barely eating, and coffee and cigarettes seem to be his elixirs of life number one and two at the present time. If I however remind him of eating or sleeping, then he even gets angry and locks himself up inside his study while doing the opposite of which I try to tell him. He actually is driving me mad."

Again Mark just nodded. He seemed to know what Severus had in mind, somehow at least, but he wanted the other man asking this question himself and so he just looked at him wordlessly, nodding once more. He knew that he was standing on thin ice. Severus wanted information of him, information about James, information James had not given the older man as it seemed and therefore he, Mark, didn't have the right to tell Severus anything. No, if Severus wanted information, then he had to ask himself – and most of all, he would have to explain as to _why_ he wanted this information in the first place.

Severus glowered at Mark. He was frustrated, he had to admit. This here was already hard enough and he felt as if he would betray and deceive the younger man he was living with – even if he was a spy and used to getting as much information as possible, never mind how he got those informations. And so he had hoped that Mark would help him out a bit here, but as it seemed he had to do this here alone. Well, he of course could understand Mark's reaction. Would anyone ask him to give information about Potter away – he as well wouldn't answer any questions, after all.

"I do know, would it be James' wish for me to know more about him, then he would have told me – what he has not done yet." He slowly said, narrowing his eyes at Mark. "This blasted, stubborn boy however seems to be in a very bad condition since a few days now and if I say a bad condition, then I mean it. His headaches are getting worse as is his lack of self control and his stubbornness. But I think that he only is hiding his insecurity and his doubts behind his stubbornness. However – right now he is laying in the living room and truth to be told he actually is pretty lousy and I have absolutely no clue about how to help him. I do not wish to betray James and I do not wish harm, but I need to know more about this bloody fool so I can help him." With a thoughtful gaze Severus looked at the door, just as if he would be able to look through the solid wall to see Potter and the moment he turned back to Mark he fixed him with a serious gaze.

"You are not only his friend, Mark, you as well are the chief here and I think whatever is wrong with James, you know it. So please, for that brat's sake, just tell me what is wrong with him. Where are those headaches coming from? Why is he so damn stubborn? And why does he not care for himself just the tiniest bit? Why is he so unheeding and disregardful concerning his own health, risking his own life and health the way he does? Or in other words – _Chief Santana_ – why does he seem to wish and attempt destroying himself?"

This time it was Mark who sighed and looked aside for a moment. Of course what Severus Snape had mentioned just now had not been new to him and of course he knew James' life completely. He knew James since he'd been a child, since he'd been eleven, and memories stumbled through is mind. The Dursleys, the Hudsons, Isaac, James, all those people stepping into his mind, shapes moving dimly in front of his eyes and a few minutes there was silence in the kitchen, a few minutes during which Severus watched the man closely, during which Mark remembered an incident so many years ago … not realizing that the man opposite him was seeing through his eyes …

**November 1991**

… _again! Yet again!_

_Mark turned in his bed, trying to close his eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but he simply couldn't. Again and again he heard Dursley shouting and cursing, screaming at his nephew and his gaze went to the alarm on his board. It was past eleven meanwhile, in the middle of the night, and again he turned in his bed, closing his eyes, trying to sleep, but he couldn't._

_It wasn't really loud. The house of the Dursleys was on the other side of the wide lawn behind the house of his father, but his room was to the back of the house and even though he couldn't understand what Dursley was screaming at his nephew exactly, he could hear him and that worried him, it hurt him … because he liked James._

_They weren't friends. James was a few classes below him, and James didn't allow anyone coming close enough for being friends, but nevertheless … he just liked him. Somehow. And Dursley … James was already jazzed, nervous and scared, and often he saw the neighbours' boy walking down the street to school, alone and somehow … somehow not so happy and carefree like the other children, someimes limping down the street, scared and frightened – in pain somehow. He had tried to talk with James Potter, but it had been without success, because James always only had lowered his eyes, had looked aside and then had left him standing there, wordlessly, had avoided him even._

_He knew that James got beaten by his uncle at a regular basis and he also knew that he was afraid of everyone because of that. But he also knew that the younger boy wasn't the kind of child that got in a lot of troubles that would have justified this. He rather was silent and not notable, rather tried to keep low and to stay out of any confrontation instead of challenging anything. And even if he was strange sometimes, he rather was someone who tried to help others. He really didn't see a reason as to why Dursley always screamed at the boy and beat him._

_Again he turned in his bed, sighing in frustration, once more trying to close his eyes, to sleep, just when he heard screams again. And this time it wasn't Dursley who screamed but this time he was absolutely sure that he heard James screaming, screaming with pain, or fear, and with growing anger he got off his bed._

_Quickly he left his room and crossed the corridor, stepped into his parents' bedroom. Both of them were sleeping soundly and his father's snoring had been heard even through the closed door. Quietly, so he wouldn't wake his mother he touched his father's shoulder, shaking him a bit._

_George Santana was awake immediately and with a questioning gaze he looked at his son who placed his finger at his lips, pointing at his mother and with a curt nod to show that he understood he got off the bed. He shivered for a moment, slipped into the bath robe and after he had cast a quick glance at his sleeping wife he followed his son out of the bedroom, down the stairs and entered the kitchen._

_"What happened?" He asked, worriedly. He knew – if his son woke him, then it was important. The brat had long since left the age behind during which he would be entering his parents' bedroom in the middle of the night without a good reason._

_"It's Dursley, dad." Mark answered with a quiet but angry voice, watching his father calmly and with a level gaze. "He's beating James again. I've heard him screaming. Is there nothing we can do? We can't just watch without doing something." He continued and his voice got more and more begging while his father just stood there, listening while he didn't give an answer. "I'm sure that James hasn't done anything, dad. He's not the kind of boy that causes trouble. Dursley just beats him because he is drunk again, I guess. We have to do something, please, dad."_

_"I know." George slowly nodded before he pointed at his son. "You – will stay here and go back to bed, young man." He finally said with a soft but serious voice. "Right now. And don't you dare following me. I do not wish seeing you outside tonight, not even the tip of your nose I wish to see out there tonight, did I make myself absolutely clear?"_

_When Mark nodded with a soft "yes, sir" he turned and took the receiver, dialling a number. "Santana here." Mark heard his father's calm voice through the open kitchen door. "Please send over a patrol to the house of the Dursleys. I too will be there in a minute."_

_With a grin on his face Mark headed upstairs. Not without reason his dad was the chief in West Hamleton and he had known that he would do something and so he followed his father's orders and went back into his room. But he didn't go back to bed. He sat down onto the heater and looked out of the window, into the dark, watching the house of the Dursleys behind the garden. He could see his father reaching the Dursleys' doorsteps the moment the patrol car arrived and he watched how his father knocked a few times before they entered the house by force when no one opened. _

_A few minutes nothing happened. A few minutes that seemed like an eternity to him, but then an ambulance came down the street, stopped in front of the Dursleys' house and blocked any further sight from his eyes._

_When his father came back home this night, he was pale and Mark could see the fury and the rage in his brown eyes, but it had not been fury or rage because of him, because he had not gone back to bed like his father had told him, but it was fury and rage that was directed at Dursley._

_For some time George Santana just stood in the doorway to his son's room, his arms crossed in front of his chest, silently watching the teenager and Mark wondered what his father could probably think of while he levelled his gaze wordlessly. What had happened over there? Was James alright? Had the ambulance come because of James? He hadn't been able to see anything at all after the ambulance had arrived because the vehicle had blocked anything and he just was about to take a deep breath to ask his father when the man closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. When he reopened them again, there nearly seemed a smile, a sad smile creeping over his face and he entered the room, stepped towards the window where he was sitting and while he too gazed out into the now again dark neighbourhood he placed his hand at his son's shoulder._

_"Thank you." He then quietly said. "Thank you for waking me and asking me to visit the Dursleys and to prevent a disaster." Once more he smiled at his son before he turned and wordlessly and tiredly, sadly, left the youth's room._

**September 1999**

Mark finally nodded, slowly and thoughtfully, and the look he regarded Severus with was angry now, really angry, but Severus at the same time knew that the anger Mark right now in this moment felt was not directed towards him but against someone else – someone named Dursley, because he had seen.

"What I will tell you now won't leave this room, you will tell no one." Mark seriously demanded and he just then continued the moment Severus had given him a nod.

"You've never got to know the Dursleys, James' relatives, his uncle, Vernon Dursley especially." He gave a quiet and short angry laugh. "How could you, he's died a year ago. Well – you haven't missed anything, believe me. They had come here when James was ten or eleven, Vernon Dursley, Petunia Dursley and their son Dudley Dursley. For some time no one even knew that there was James Potter living with them, only when school had started it was clear that there was another boy living with them. But where Dudley Dursley was a bully that got shoved everything as deep as possible into his big ass, James had gotten nothing, not even proper clothing, food, or anything else. My father had found out at one point when James had gotten beaten by his uncle in the middle of the night. He's been the chief here back then and we lived in the Dursley's neighbourhood and so he had called a patrol and had gone over to them."

He paused for a moment and stood. Since a few minutes his gaze had drifted off every now and then, and now he went towards the counter and took the package of cigarettes that was laying there beside the radio station, the one he knew James had placed there as a replacement, turned it between his fingers thoughtfully. He hesitated for a second, but then he lifted the package, looking at Severus questioningly.

The Potions Master was confused for a moment, he had to admit. Mark Santana was no one that enjoyed smoking a cigarette from time to time. No – he absolutely _never_ had seen him smoking. Was he as nervous as Severus guessed he was? And if – then why? But then he nodded. For one, it wasn't important _what reason for_ Mark was nervous and second, Harry wouldn't mind if Mark took one of his cigarettes.

The police officer inclined his head with a thankful expression on his face, lightened one of the cigarettes and sat back at the table, watching Severus who refilled his cup. Just two months the two of them were living together and Severus already knew that cigarettes and coffee belonged together just like … like … he wasn't able to think of something that was fitting, but he knew that Severus had to be very observant. Because as he knew that Severus didn't smoke – so he had learned that when watching the younger man.

"I'm sure that it hadn't been the first time that James had been beaten by him, that he had done that even before they had left England even." Mark then continued. "However, my father and the other police officers had found James locked up in a cupboard that night. He never had said what exactly had happened, but I've seen the ambulance in front of their house and James had been gone for a few weeks. He had looked really bad afterwards when he had been back. However, it hadn't been the last time my father had gone over to them in the middle of the night either, because James had been beaten by Dursley. Dursley always had been drunk and then he had beaten him. There had been nothing the boy had been able to do correctly in his eyes and he only always had screamed at him. I've been a teenager still back then, but I remember that I always wondered why child welfare never had done something, I really don't know. Even dad had been ready to take James, but child welfare always had said he had to stay with the Dursleys, whatever reason for and so it went on until James was nearly seventeen and he had run away."

The ministry. Severus immediately thought. He knew that Albus hadn't known where Potter had been, the older wizard had searched for him for years and so it must have been the ministry. They must have known. And somehow they must have sent over ministry officials who had played members of child service. It wasn't a thought that sat well with him, he had to admit.

"You know, James hadn't even gotten lunch for school and I remember that my mother always had packed me an extra sandwich for school so James had something to eat at all. Later, when James had been fourteen or fifteen, I've seen him wandering the streets sometimes, or through the park because he hadn't dared going home. And the moment he finally _had_ gone home, then it had been a fifty-fifty chance to get a beating. And I don't speak of a cuff to his head but a real beating. Dursley had taken anything to beat James with, including his feet.

Later, when he had been sixteen, nearly seventeen he hadn't gone home anymore at all. For a few weeks he had slept in the park and my father had brought him to our house whenever he had seen him there. He'd just had to be careful so that he wouldn't meet the Hudsons, but he soon had found out that they wouldn't find him if he slept in the trees. The Hudsons and James, they'd always had troubles. I think, he'd never had any friends except of Isaac, he always had been glad if people just left him alone and even the teachers had learned that rather soon. I think, James could have been sleeping back there in the last row of the classroom and no one would have said anything. Isaac had been the only one he had allowed near him."

Yes, that sounded like the Harry Potter he had learned to know during the past weeks, like the _James_ Potter, and he even could imagine a sleeping Potter in his potions classroom. He surely would not have allowed that! He would have given him hell. But then he furrowed his brows. Yes, he would have given him hell, but he also would have made sure that the boy had gotten out of that household.

"That has been shortly after I had finished police academy and started in West Hamleton. My father had seen to it that James took at least a room in the motel. He had started working at Norman's garage on the weekends so he could pay the room but the money had been barely enough for _that_ and my father had had endless discussions with the owner of the motel so he didn't throw James out. Not to mention that james never had any money left to buy food. Isaac's mother and mine had sent us over to James with a cake or a loaf of bread or something like that every now and then, even if he had gotten angry about it." Again Mark laughed and yes, Severus could imagine that as well.

"He didn't want that, but neither could he keep them from doing so. No one, not even James' stubbornness had been able to go against Isaac's mother or mine. Shortly before his seventeenth birthday he had made an application to a truck company. They had paid his driving licence and in turn he had signed a contract to drive an overweight load from here to Flat Hollow about 1500 miles in the north once a week. And so he'd left school and started as a trucker. Everyone had told him he's crazy, told him to _not_ do that and only Isaac was alright with that and even followed into his foot steps, but only after he had ended school. His mother had seen to that! However, the work had been dangerous but paid over standard and soon they'd had enough money to buy this house here – especially after Isaac had inherited some money from his father."

Severus still listened to Mark without a word and when the man stopped, allowed his thoughts to go back in time once again, he only nodded to signal the other man to continue speaking. And so Mark as well nodded when he went on.

"But then, one day, James was missed. Not on the route between here and Flat Hollow, the truck was standing in front of his house. It has been my shift when Isaac posted him as missing and I organized a searching party with two units but we hadn't found him in this night, only a few days later. _When_ we however finally found him … well, he was more dead than living. He had been damaged so badly, I've never seen anything like that in my career … and _only once_ after. He had never told me what exactly had happened, nor who had kept him captured out there in the stone pit, but I'm sure it had been the Hudsons, it was their territory after all. Sadly I've never been able to prove anything, to them, but … well, James had changed back then. He had started to flinch back even from Isaac, he had become as insecure and nervous, frightened as he had been when he had been a child, scared even – maybe the way you know him right now, rudimentary at least."

Severus nodded a moment before Mark continued speaking.

"However, then the day came when James got missed a second time, only shortly after his first disappearance. More than two months we had been searching for him, without success. We've questioned the Hudsons, but neither had we been able to get any information out of them, nor to find anything else - until Isaac had found him in the woods behind the old stone pit, in an old blockhouse, again – more dead than alive. That had been the second time that I've seen someone as damaged as him. And when he had gotten him out of there, about to bring him to the hospital in West Hamleton, they had this accident. Not James had been driving the car, but Isaac."

Severus frowned for a moment. Isaac had been driving the car? But why had they said that Harry had been driving? He didn't understand this. It at least explained why it was that the car had gotten off the road in the first place. But why …

"You know the reminder of the story." Mark's voice got him out of his thoughts. "Norman and Edgar have told you. However, again no one knows what really had happened out there, why James had gone there and why Isaac had followed him, if the Hudsons had really had their hands in this. I guess so, because when I've been on my way to the place of the accident, they'd come from there. But of course they never admitted that and again I haven't been able to prove anything."

Once more Severus nodded thoughtfully, but then he shook his head with furrowed brows.

"That explains a lot." He finally said. "But not all of it. His – insecurity, his fears and his nervousness maybe yes, but not his strange actions he's showing sometimes. Nor does it explain his headaches."

"I don't know." Mark said. "You see, he might have forgotten everything after the accident, had lost his entire memory including his childhood and the abuse. Of course this doesn't explain everything, because he can't remember that after all."

But now it was Severus who growled at him, shaking his head and gazed darkly at him.

"Maybe, maybe not." The Potions Master said. "Can you look into Potter's head? Can you know what is going on in there? Never mind if he can remember the actual abuse or not, his emotions, his fears, they are still there, his uncle I guess had beaten them into him until they had become second nature to him, and no one forgets something like that."

Leaning back in his chair Severus ran his hand over his face. He knew what those words meant and now he knew what James was used to, at least now, after Mark's tale. And yet – there still were so many unanswered questions. What exactly did this mean in Harry Potter's special case? But then he lifted his eyebrow at the other man.

"And yet, there are some things." He said. "The fact that James does not follow any safety regulations, for example. Tools are used without a hand guard, he does not fasten the seatbelt whenever he is driving the car and he seems to have absolutely no sense for any sources of danger even if he himself should know how dangerous such things he is doing are, he owns a towing service after all and he has accidents around him each day. But he is reckless and he is thoughtless, impulsive and …"

"I know that." Mark cut him off. "Look, James is living in the here and now, and therefore he doesn't think about the outcome of his actions. He doesn't care what could be tomorrow because tomorrow is not in the here and now. Of course he knows that he could die in an accident if he doesn't fasten the seatbelt, but that isn't important to him, not in the moment he's sitting behind the steering wheel and _should_ buckle his seatbelt but doesn't _wish_ doing so, whatever reason for. He's driven from one impulse to the next and sometimes by more than one impulse at the same time. And that are the moments during which everything he does goes wrong, during which he loses orientation, doesn't know his left hand from his right and then gets into a panic."

"And how can one stop this?" Severus asked, remembering such situations and suddenly understanding them.

"You can't. Nothing can stop this." Mark answered with a shrugging of his shoulders. He didn't really know but he was fairly sure. "It's like with his strange eating habits and with his strange sleeping habits, it isn't normal but no one and nothing can change that, it just is like that." Again Mark shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know this for sure either, this as well only was a guess he had learned with time and he had no other proof, and so he was fairly sure that his guess was correct.

"I guess, he's just forgetting." Severus said, again understanding.

"Wait a moment, how can one forget eating? Or sleeping?" Mark now asked in irritation. "At the latest if James is hungry he has to remember eating, or if he's tired, then he has to remember going to bed and sleep. And sometimes he doesn't even eat even if he watches others eating – so, how can he forget about this?"

"That actually is not a problem." Severus answered. "At least not for Potter. You have told me that there had been times in James' youth where he didn't have anything to eat. He is used to exactly that. I guess that his feeling for hunger doesn't reach his mind anymore, not really at least, that this impulse is blocked somewhere between his body and his mind and so he just forgets. And even if this theory is wrong, then maybe he might be hungry sometimes, but he is not able to link the feeling of hunger to the necessity of eating. And even if he watches you eating, then there maybe might be other things that are more important to him, other impulses which he is – according to you – following at that time, which impulses that might be, maybe even some we – you and me – would not even understand. What do you think why regulated times for eating, sleeping and doing homework or other things are so important for children? So they might get used to them. But I guess that James never had a regulated daily routine? No? And that is the reason as to why he is not used to regular meals and the same goes for sleeping. At first he might forget because he is used to little sleep and then – he might be tired, but he does not link the feeling of being tired to the necessity of sleeping."

"How confusing, but well, James _is_ a confusing brat and not easy to handle." Mark shook his head while pouring another cup of coffee. "He seems unpredictable, but in fact – he isn't, not if you know him. He's frustrated quickly if things don't work out the way he's planning them and so he's overreacting. He can't filter important things from the unimportant and so he can't concentrate onto the important things, and so he's forgetting anything that even _can_ be forgotten. He isn't watchful and he is hectic, and therefore anything slips his hands and he's spilling everything. He wishes to do everything correctly and that best at the same time, and so he is chaotically and starts things without finishing them."

"Yes, I can see that." Severus huffed. "It sounds like someone you better stay away from. In some ways it does sound like Potter, but somehow … I guess there are too much other small things that are overlaying all those chaotic and uncoordinated actions – in other words, to dig yourself through to the plain person – it will be impossible."

"Exactly." Mark answered. "On the other hand, he's really a good lad. He for example has a superior sense of justice and he doesn't care if he's getting himself into trouble with that. If he just as much as senses injustice, then he'll react. He would give the shirt on his back if it were necessary without considering the outcome for himself. If he can help, then he'll do just this without asking first and without asking for anything in return. And never will he hold it against you later."

Yes, that was true and if he liked it or not – Severus couldn't deny that. He had learned that first hand. Potter even had been ready to share his house with him without asking for anything in return and he never had held it against him.

"And after each and every argument, never mind what it has been about, and never mind how much it had hurt him, he's never able to stay angry for long. Every morning after, never mind what the day before had brought, James is able to greet you with open arms – if he trusts you enough for that. On the other hand, he always will blame himself for whatever had happened, he always will fear making mistakes or having made mistakes. He'll always fear his friends could be angry at him, that he could lose them even if there isn't a reason for that. He'll always question any friendships, what reason for his friends are befriending _him_ of all people and he'll never see himself worth or valuable enough to justify those friendships."

Yes, that too he couldn't deny. Potter did not seem to understand why he, Severus, always worried, why he was respecting him and of course they'd had one argument or another – but it had been forgotten the next morning. Again he frowned.

"He's strange, yes, but he's creative and he has a great humour, even if it is a bit sarcastic for my liking."

"Of course he's sarcastic." Severus huffed. "Anyone would become sarcastic to survive what Potter has survived after all."

"Yes, maybe. He's a tumbler, I think there's nothing that really can get him down. He might seem helpless sometimes, clumsy, and sometimes there seems to be nothing he can do by himself, the most obvious things – they don't come to his mind and he's unsure and sometimes unrealistic, but he always manages in the end one way or another." Now Mark pierced him with his eyes.

"You wish to be able handling him better? Then just take him the way he is, with all his strengths but with all his weaknesses as well, even if they sometimes are outnumbering his strengths. Help him to remember important things, show him where to go whenever he loses his orientation, be there for him if he doesn't know where he's standing. I know that it won't be easy, but I can promise you that it will be worthwhile. I can assure you that you'll get a friend you've never had before and I also can assure you that you won't be bored with a friend like James Potter around."

Severus couldn't help huffing at that description while he nodded. He already had been able to throw quick glances onto all of these things and – as loath as he was to admit that – he was looking forwards to seeing more of that. Potter! Harry Bloody Potter, James Bloody Potter … and he was looking forwards to a friendship with a person as damaged as Potter was! It was insane – _he_ had become insane somewhere during his stay with that boy!

"If you are now able to tell my why he is as worse as he is at the present time, I would appreciate it." He growled darkly.

"Listen, Severus." Mark answered, asking for another cigarette from James' package and the Potions Master nodded. "James knows exactly that he isn't easy to handle." Mark continued when he had lightened another cigarette.

He was nervous and he simply needed a cigarette right now. Not because he felt guilt about telling so much about James, he was sure that he was doing the right thing. No. He was nervous because he didn't know how to explain all those things he had learned over the years in a few sentences so Severus would understand. On the other hand – the other man that seemed so dark and tough, so harsh and – _strange_ – so much like Isaac had been … he actually seemed to understand already. Yes, Severus Snape wasn't an idiot and he somehow knew that Severus Snape wouldn't harm James, that he would be able to help him. He just didn't know how to explain things he didn't know himself.

"James knows by himself that he's difficult." He finally said. "And so he's blaming himself for anything that happens. He's blaming himself for getting you or me into trouble, he's blaming himself for Isaac's death, he's blaming himself that his uncle had beaten him even. He's never heard a sentence like _'you can do that'_ or _'well done'_ or anything like that. All he ever heard was _'you're too stupid for anything'_ or _'you're too slow for anything'_ or _'you're an ungrateful idiot'_. For anything that has happened he'd gotten beaten and he has learned that he is of no use, that he is worthless and that being like he is – is something bad. He never has learned to acknowledge his good sides, so – how should he even know that he has them? And so he's insecure."

"And the more insecure he becomes, the more insecure his movements will come to a point where his muscles get tense and he gets headaches from that, backaches and even stomach ages, I guess." Severus nodded in understanding. "His fingers start opening at the wrong moment and things slip through them – and the more this happens, the more insecure he gets. I start to see – he always will be the loser in this no-winning situation."

"Exactly, and you …" Mark pointed with the cigarette at Severus. "You are reacting with clearly visible worry because you don't know what to do and James is feeling this – what makes him just the more insecure. One leads to the other and it has to stop. So far you have reacted to James' actions, I take it? Just stop this. You now know where the rub is and now you can be the one who's _acting_ so that James will have to _react_. With that you'll be able to lead him into the right direction."

To act. Of course, it was so easy that he wondered why he hadn't thought of that by himself. It was nothing else than he had done in the past with the students in his house. He had been the one acting so that they'd had to react in return. He had been the one leading them into the right direction so why –

Well, most likely because Potter wasn't a student of him. He wasn't used to lead adults. He was used to lead children, as much as this thought somehow disturbed him. Dark and tough Potions Master, harsh and hated dungeons bat, and he was used to leading children. And yet – he knew that it simply was like that. And Potter wasn't a student, had never been a student at Hogwarts at all and even if he had been, then he surely wouldn't have been in Slytherin but in Gryffindor like his … would he really have been in Gryffindor? With his past? With being an abused child? Or would he have ended up rather in Slytherin?

Never mind what – he simply would have to lead him like he had led his students, because, yes – acting, that it had been what he had done this evening when he had gotten Potter to take the painkillers, he had been the one acting and Potter had been the one who had been forced to react.

"What else is important concerning James' bad health?" He then asked.

"Well, autumn starts and it's getting wet and cold, and James is feeling the weather. He's getting tired more easily, he's getting backaches and his headaches are getting worse. It's since the Hudsons had kept him out there for the second time and he doesn't go to the doctor, at least not by free will, only if there isn't any other way – in other words if Norman or I are forcing him."

"Why is he so reluctant in visiting the doctor in the first place?" He asked, remembering the disaster with Doc Carrington only a few hours ago. Of course he knew that someone like Potter, someone that had been abused, never went to a medic by free will, that they felt weak and afraid, ashamed even, but he wondered if there might be other reasons. But Mark shook his head.

"You will have to ask him, Severus." He answered. "I already have told you more than I should and he would kill me if he even knew about that. You're intelligent and so I think you'll find out and you'll find a way to manage him."

Severus now nodded thoughtfully. Yes, he was sure he would manage, even if he also was sure that Potter would drive him mad sometimes, but yes, he would find a way to manage and to help the younger man. He was sure of that now. At least – he had been able to handle Joshua, and in some ways, _he_ had been just as chaotic as was Potter. But on the other hand, Joshua had never had Potter's childhood. Joshua had grown up safely and sheltered at Hopedale by Douglas and the twins. He had not had an _easy_ childhood, but an _enjoyable_.

He hadn't been beaten, his father had not brought him down like Potter's uncle had done and Douglas always had told his sons how proud he was of them, that they were something special. But Potter? Would he be able to straighten out all the mistakes his uncle had made? All the negative things that had been beaten into him, that had become a second nature to him?

But then once again Severus nodded. Yes, he answered to himself. He would manage.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_The forgotten sunglasses – part three._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

At the present time it looks like this:

503 Points - Slytherin

462 Points - Gryffindor

417 Points - Ravenclaw

183 Points - Hufflepuff


	10. the forgotten sunglasses - part three

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … I do not have much experience in Harry Potter stories … it is my first one, I have to admit …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

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* * *

**Here and now**

**Chapter ten **

**The forgotten sunglasses – part three**

**November 2003**

Once more he rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

He was sure he had gotten something into his eyes. What time was it meanwhile? He had to look closely to being able reading the clock. It was one in the afternoon. Was his eyesight getting worse or was it because of the something he had gotten into his eyes? Once more he tried to get rid of the foreign particle in his eyes, but without success and blinking he didn't have any other choice than reducing his speed once more.

Damn, his eyes were burning and watering so that he barely was able to see anything, especially if he looked over at the snow that covered the landscape to his left and right. He would like to close them at all and once more he steered the truck to the side and stopped. Just ten minutes! Closing his eyes for _just ten minutes_! He had the feeling that they were swollen.

_"If your eyes are already damaged, you should leave the sun immediately and go to an oculist at once to prevent long-term damage as best as possible."_

Very funny, really! Where in three devils' name should he go to, out here in the wilderness? He wouldn't be able to leave the sun here and an eye specialist he regrettably didn't have at hand here either.

_Fucking shit!_

He wouldn't be able to go on like this, and he knew it!

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It was three meanwhile and still he had forty miles until he reached Ennadai. Not at four but rather at five in the evening he would arrive there. He wouldn't need to buy sunglasses anymore then, it would be already dark again then. He meanwhile moved onwards with only twenty miles per hour. Great, he would establish a new record – the record for being the slowest driver and he sighed in frustration.

His eyes hurt more and more and somehow his gaze got blurred. Of course it got blurred, his eyes were watering as if he had the worst cold. No – worse even! If only the sun would go down finally. This morning he had wished the sun would rise a bit quicker so he would get awake finally, but right now he couldn't await her disappearance and the resulting darkness.

Normally he already would be in Caribou by now, then just 130 miles more to Churchill, about three hours, a few minutes for unloading the truck, and then he would heed home. He would be able to lie back on the sofa at nine, could eat something, maybe watching TV and talking with Severus – but well, _that_ were chances he only could dream of right now.

The moment he looked over at the clock on the dashboard it was four and still he had twenty miles to Ennadai, a good hour at his current speed, and then another 160 miles to Caribou. Harry started laughing. Tomorrow morning at one he would be in Caribou – no post office would be open then! Another 130 miles to Churchill – tomorrow morning at eight – if nothing happened, that was – well, he would be at home at nine or ten, ready for breakfast. _That_ – really was a record!

Oh, damn – he shouldn't laugh right now, that wasn't really helpful with his headaches and with a soft groan he pressed his palm onto his forehead. Right now he didn't know what hurt more, his eyes or his head.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It really was five the moment he finally reached Ennadai and it really was dark meanwhile, but that it was what was somewhat relaxing for his eyes, but nevertheless he had trouble really seeing enough. Out there, outside the village it wasn't so bad, as the ice road mostly led straight forwards, it was easy to survey and there were no people or other cars on the road. But here in the village … he barely dared to move onwards at a walking pace even.

When he reached the post office he slowly stopped. It simply was like heaven and with a relieved sigh he leaned back against the backrest of his seat for a few seconds, closing his eyes. During the past hour he hadn't stopped again, had been driving none-stop, his only wish to reach Ennadai and he had to kick himself to get out of the truck right now.

Stretching his limbs he went to the trailer and opened the doors, climbed onto the loading platform and searched for the mail bag. He tried to decipher if there was written Ennadai or Caribou, but for the life of him, he couldn't recognize the letters. Seven letters, _seven_, but damn, both place names had seven letters!

Once more he ran his hand over his forehead, but his headache didn't cease and finally he took the mail bag that looked more like Ennadai to him. He couldn't waist all day after all and Charley would tell him if it was the wrong mail bag anyway.

He tried to avoid looking into the bright light of the street lamp the moment he climbed down from the trailer and then entered the post office that was – how should it be otherwise – ablaze with light and frustrated he squinted his eyes.

Charley, who was sitting behind the counter, lifted his head the moment he entered.

"Finally, James." He growled moodily. "What did you do the past four hours? Reading the newspaper?"

James tried to look as innocently as possible while he brought the mail bag behind the counter.

"Sure." He said dryly. "With the feet on the steering wheel and twenty miles per hour – you should try that."

Twenty miles per hour? Charley looked over at the young man, startled, and he immediately noticed the infected eyes.

"You should have someone looking at those eyes of yours, doesn't look good. Why don't you visit the doc, James?"

"Sure, I'll fix an appointment right now. Maybe I'll get one this week." James growled. His mood wasn't the best meanwhile and with the chance to drive through the entire night his mood only was getting worse. Under normal circumstances he would be able to be at home in three hours.

"You can't go on driving like this, James." Charley said, worriedly shaking his head and his wrinkled face screwed up.

"Sure, no problem, Charley." James said, getting impatient. "I'll take a room in the motel. You'll surely get my truck home, won't you, Charley?" He just wanted to leave. He was already late and the bright light inside the post office hurt his eyes more and more. He just wanted to leave the building and Ennadai.

"I'll manage – somehow." He growled in a somewhat calmer tone. "Outside of town it's dark and not so bad, and I have 160 miles until Caribou. My eyes will have recovered 'till then."

Charley watched him doubtfully, but he didn't say anything. He knew James' stubbornness and he knew that he wouldn't be able to get this idiocy out of his mind. On the other hand – what could he do except going on slowly? The truck had to be brought to Churchill after all, never mind how, and as long as James was able to drive one way or another – so long he _had_ to drive, it was just that.

"Drive slowly and take care." He therefore just said when James left the post office and the boy gave him a short nod of his head, his headache behind his forehead increasing to a point where they were running circles in his head.

"Sure." He just answered and closed the door behind him. He would drive slowly.

Inevitably … twenty miles per hour … one really couldn't call _this_ a speed race.

He was glad the moment he was back in the cabin of his truck and once more he closed his eyes for a moment, leaned his arms onto the steering wheel and tried to relax – without success – and so he set the truck in motion again. Well, he didn't have any other choice after all, his options were getting less and less and he crawled along Ennadai's Main Road at a walking pace. Just when he was outside of the village he carefully accelerated. At least twenty, _at least_ the twenty miles per hour he wanted to keep.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

When James looked over at the clock the next time he had to look more than once to really see anything. The digital display was well lit, yes, but nevertheless the bright blue numbers became blurred in front of his eyes. He blinked to get rid of the tears in his eyes, and yet it took him minutes until he was sure that it was …

Groaning in frustration he realized it was – past ten. Really great! He was on the road since sixteen hours now and he was tired. _And_ he had still sixty miles to Caribou. Added to that his head meanwhile threatened to explode, his eyes hurt as if they intended to break the record of his headaches, they were watering more and more and by now he seemed to be unable seeing anything at all.

He actually had hoped his eyes would recover if he was in the dark for some time, but that had been a futile hope. The light of the headlights on the snow seemed blinding white and burned like fire in his eyes. Even the soft bluish light of the dashboard hurt his eyes whenever he turned off his headlights during a pause.

_One mile – one more mile!_ He told himself over and over again. _Just one more mile!_

But after another hour he simply couldn't go on anymore and with a sigh of frustration he steered the truck to the side of the road, well, at least to the place he _guessed_ was the side of the road, because he wasn't able to see much anymore – if he was honest with himself, he barely could see _anything_ anymore _at all_. But right now he didn't want to be honest with himself, otherwise he would have had to admit that he should have stopped a long time ago.

For a moment he leaned back, sighed in frustration and closed his eyes, placing his hands above them, but then he pulled himself together and as hard as it was for him, he took the mike of the radio – just that what he had wished to avoid!

"Severus?" He softly asked.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus had tried to distract himself as good as possible during the afternoon. He had helped Brian with his homework, trying to explain the boy how the periodic system worked, then he had cleared the cellar with Sam and had made a cake together with Terry. He wasn't a friend of cakes, but the boys had been looking forward to it and so he had been sitting down with them and had been drinking a cup of coffee. But his thoughts had been wandering off over and over again, had gone back to the past, back to the day he had met Harry Potter for the first time, not at Hogwarts and Potter being a bloody firs-year student, but many years later.

He really didn't know how he had gone through the past hours since he last had last talked to James, noticing that something was not as it should have been, without loosing his mind and now he was running circles into the kitchen floor – and not for the first time today. Was it really since four years they now lived together? It seemed to him like half an eternity, so much had happened meanwhile. And yet – he didn't rue one single day of those four years. He was living a happy and fulfilling life.

Of course he sometimes wondered what Jonathan and Jeremiah would say if they knew that he lived here together with James since four years, if they knew that he – in a strange way – had found Joshua in James … and suddenly he felt guilty. Jonathan and Jeremiah had been Joshua's brothers, they had been _his friends_ – and they had the right to meet James. Maybe he should take James to a holiday next summer, to Nevada for example?

But even this thought couldn't distract him for long and a short time later he again was running through the house, this time up and down the corridor, between the kitchen and the living room.

At nine Terry had gone to bed and shortly after Brian. Sam had stayed awake together with him, had tried to distract him, but somehow the boy hadn't really managed.

He finally forced himself to calmness and started the coffee maker, cursing himself. He was used to being indifferent and to _not_ worry himself to death, and his nervousness drove himself mad. Well, it was past eleven now and James surely would come home at any moment – at least that was what he hoped – and as he knew the brat he would be happy about a cup of coffee. On the other hand, maybe James would be too tired to sit down and drink coffee, he had been driving since seventeen hours now after all.

He had placed two cups onto the table and he just was about to stretch out his hand to take the coffee pot to the table as well, when he heard James' voice coming from the radio.

"Severus?"

And his hand stopped midair, unable to move for a moment. _That_ … did not sound well. That did not sound well _at all!_ James' voice didn't just sound tired but actually exhausted, pained. It was rough and tight, as if James would hold his breath and Severus' already pale face lost every remaining colour so that it seemed nearly ghostly now.

There was something wrong, definitely wrong. James had not called out his name like he normally did when he called him, but … rather as if … as if he needed help … as if he _desperately_ needed help and a paralyzing horror ran over Severus' back while he slowly turned and went towards the radio on the kitchen counter, knowing what could happen out there in the wilderness of north Canada.

"James?" He asked and with some frustration he noticed that his own voice as well sounded rough. "What happened? Are you in trouble?" And he nearly feared the answer, nearly knew what the answer would be.

"Yes." The answer came a few seconds later from the radio, seconds during which Severus had trouble keeping his temper, had trouble to _not_ repeat his question. And then – yes, just yes, nothing else!

"What happened?" Severus asked again, trying to find out more, but this time he didn't get an answer at all.

"Potter!" He growled darkly and Severus looked over to Sam who still sat at the kitchen table, watching him wordlessly. He too was looking worried. "Potter! For Merlin's sake, speak with me! Are you still there? What happened?"

"I can't go on." He finally heard James answering in a soft voice.

"_What_ happened? And _where_ are you?" He finally asked as calmly as possible.

"Nearly forty miles before Caribou." Was the answer, even softer than before, nearly whispering.

Nearly forty miles _before_ Caribou? How … how was this possible? Severus thought he had heard wrong and Sam as well looked at him, startled, as if he wanted to ask if James had fallen asleep on his way. But whatever had happened, such question could wait until later, right now he knew he needed his usual clear head and he needed to act.

"Do not worry, James, I will come." He answered and to his own relief his voice sounded as calm as ever, he had himself back under control. "I have to know _what exactly_ has happened. Do you need something? Are you in one piece?"

"Yes, I am." The blasted brat answered. "Just my eyes are … making troubles somehow."

"Your …" Severus hesitated for a moment while his thoughts were running a mile per minute, but already at the same moment he had added two and two together and he knew what exactly James' problem was. "Might it be that you have forgotten your sunglasses?" He then asked and he was sure that he could hear a soft groan at the other end of the radio circuit – he didn't need an answer to his question anymore. "Alright, James. I am on my way. Expect me in about three hours. Stay with the truck, is that clear? Keep the engine running and do _not_ – even – _think_ – of leaving the truck and meeting me halfway."

On one hand, Severus thought, James knew exactly how one had to act out there in such a situation, he was a professional after all or he wouldn't be doing this job as long as he did by now, but on the other hand … he knew that blasted idiot's stubbornness and his talent to worry about everything and everyone and he feared the brat would come down with the glorious idea to walk towards him just so that he would have to drive a few miles less. _And_ he knew James' talent to come up with nearly everything that was impossible. He would, blind as he most likely was, get lost on his way.

If only he could apparate to the blasted brat to get him, that would save him a lot of lost time and trouble, but at the same time he knew – if he apparated there and got the boy home with magic, or just gave the _impression_ of doing magic, then James would be startled out of his pants and only fear him for days and days, for weeks maybe even. They had been past this after all whenever he had tried to get the young wizard to acknowledging his own magic in the past.

Whatever the Dursleys had done to the blasted brat exactly – they had not done it halfway. That boy was so damn brainwashed, he would risk losing him, losing his friendship if he pressed the matter more than he tried once in a while. He was a Slytherin after all, and he knew that one day he would have Potter at the point where he would acknowledge his own magic, but until then – he had to cease from doing too much magic in front of him especially in situations where James would be nervous, jumpy and scared in the first place. And he knew that James was all of that right now, he knew his young friend after all.

"James has forgotten his sunglasses." He explained to Sam. "I will go and get him. Brian won't cause any troubles should he wake if none of us are here, he is not a small child anymore after all, but will you be able handling Terry if he wakes?"

Sam confidentially nodded and Severus was at ease, started to concentrate on James' problem. Snow blindness.

_"If you have it, guys – stop talking with Frederic and listen, James – then following order is important: first, protection of secondary infection – second, pain treatment and third, a stay in darkness."_

Thank you, Marian, that you have invited us to your lecture, but maybe you should have been writing it down for James, and most of all the part with the sunglasses one never should forget on this particular route!

But well – he had his own potion he would give Harry, the younger man wouldn't like it, but well – they were eye drops that not only would keep the eye protected from secondary infection but also would ease the swelling and the pain as well. He also packed a headache potion, a towel he could wrap snow in and place on Harry's eyes to calm the irritation and beneath it, it would be dark. That would be an example for the saying – to kill two birds with one stone!

Even while thinking he had started gathering all he needed and packed it into his emergency potions kit, and now he went back into the kitchen, slipping into his jacket at the same time and then approaching the radio once more.

"Bradley?" He called into the mike.

But there was nothing, no answer.

_"BRADLEY!"_

Damn! He knew that surely everyone would be asleep in the Middle Store, but Bradley had to be awake, he was on duty tonight if he remembered the schedule.

"Bradley, damn! Answer you imbecile or I'll skin you alive, cut you in tiny little pieces and use you as food for the birds in winter!" He growled, contrary to his usual habit impatiently, and this time he finally got an answer – a _somewhat_ bleary answer.

"Yes? Severus? Is this you? Damn! What's the matter in the middle of the night? Are you crazy?" The man asked grumpily.

"My apology, Bradley. Please send Big Bear and Worry over to Caribou where they will find James' truck about fourty miles before the village." Severus said, not ready to give away the information as to why, but the truck had to be picked up. "I am about to leave and get James. I will inform you the moment I have him securely in my car."

He gave a short nod towards Sam and then left the house with quick strides. Of course it was complicated. The two had to get the truck, drive to Churchill and then back to the Middle Store, but the Stores were helplessly understaffed and all the drivers were on their ways. Mad Rush and Easy on their way up to Flat Hollow, Fred and Andy down back to the Middle Store and Benjamin and Jason were on their way from Churchill to the Middle Store, they surely had passed James hours ago already, and James – well, _somewhere_ in the middle of the route.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus opened the garage and frowning he remembered the moment he had stepped a foot inside this place for the first time. Back then he'd nearly had a stroke. In there had been fragmented pieces of any vehicles imaginable, junk, engines, tires, instruments and tools, papers, empty and _half_ empty cigarette packages, even a desk that however rather was used as a coffee cup holder was there as well as some other things he hadn't been able to identify and all those things had been laying, standing, leaning or hanging in there, causing a seemingly endless chaos, but somehow James always had been able to do or find exactly that what he _intended_ on doing or finding.

Still frowning Severus got into the Cherokee and started the engine. 180 miles, three to three and a half hours. With the Jeep he maybe would be a bit quicker, the road was dead straight after all and like everyone here he was used to driving on the ice. Maybe he would manage seventy miles per hour, maybe even eighty. But he just better didn't tell James afterwards.

He left the garage, drove up the driveway and then turned right, hurrying along the road until he reached West Hamleton where he got slower and more careful, but the moment he left the small village he gently sped up until he was driving the seventy miles per hour he had set himself and he noticed that he managed better than he had imagined. Gently he pushed down the accelerator a bit more. Eighty, and it still was alright, even if he knew that he had to be careful now. Well, he had to admit that maybe – just _maybe_, mind you – he was a little bit barmy, but not as barmy as Potter was!

Damn! James really hadn't sounded too well, and Severus guessed that his headaches meanwhile had to be really bad. Together with the hurting eyes, tiredness, frustration – no, he really did not want to be in that boy's shoes.

At least _he_ got ahead here.

Damn, why hadn't the blasted boy called him earlier?

But then he shook his head. He knew James well enough to know why, to know that he had hoped he would manage. James was no one who easily gave up, who easily asked others for help, and he most likely had been driving until he hadn't been able to see anything at all anymore. Damn – what if he wasn't even on the route anymore? If he had turned off his head lights to rest his eyes, then Severus never would be able to find him in this desert of snow and ice, he could be _anywhere_.

_Idiot!_ He called himself. _Don't lose your nerves now, you've had worse, honestly. If you won't find him right now, then you just will have to cast a location spell and if you still won't find him tonight, then tomorrow a helicopter will start, it's that simple._ Severus shook his head at himself. He always had been proud to say that he was an indifferent man that didn't show his emotions on his sleeve like some idiot Gryffindors might and he always had been proud that he was a man keeping a clear head at the direst of situations. Why did he start panicking now whenever that bloody brat was in trouble?

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

James was sitting at the passenger's seat, his feet resting on the dashboard, his head leaning back against the headrest and his right arm he had placed over his closed eyes. But that hurt just the more and so he took it away from his eyes, placed his arm over his hurting forehead instead while he slowly reopened his eyes.

While he'd had them closed, alone the touch of the lids over his eyes had hurt, but now the light of the headlights hurt him. And yet, he didn't dare turning them off, just in case he had gotten off the route. He doubted it, he would have noticed _that_, but he really hadn't seen _anything_ in the end.

And besides, he wanted Severus to see him in time, just in case he would rash over with eighty miles per hour – and he definitely would not put this past the idiot. He even was sure that this was what would happen, and so he sat there and tried to make a decision. Should he close his eyes again? Or should he keep them open?

Slowly he closed them, reopened them, tried to find out which pain was more bearable – or which one was worse, depending on how you wanted to view it. It surely depended on if you – on a Sunday afternoon and without money and with an empty tank, held a full package of cigarettes in your hands or one in which only one single cigarette was left. And right now he definitely had not even _one_ cigarette left in his package. Not really, he knew that it was half full, but … Merlin! Severus would say now, whatever obsession his older friend had with that blasted man that was not only a myth but dead since centuries as well anyway.

Deciding that the headlights definitely were the worse – he closed his eyes again and tried to relax. Three hours, it would take Severus three hours after all to reach him, and so he maybe could sleep a bit if he managed to relax enough for sleeping. But that it was what he just didn't manage. As if he ever would easily manage that, he growled at himself. But right now his thoughts were whirling in his head that was in blazing pain, not to mention his eyes, and his back seemed to be stiff since hours. And added to _that_ he was tired like seldom before and even if it was warm in the cabin he started trembling.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus had made good progress the past two hours and if James' informations were true, then he had to see the truck in about ten miles, at least if he hadn't turned off his headlights. ten miles, those were about ten minutes. His heart slowly started increasing its beating in his chest while he hoped that James hadn't left the road and he cast a short tempus – half past two. Once more he cursed. He could have Potter at home by now if he were able using magic, for Merlin's sake!

Well, he simply wasn't able to, and well, the boys hopefully were alright.

_The boys_ – he thought, shaking his head. None of them was a small child anymore. Brian was fourteen and absolutely capable of caring for himself for a few hours once in a while and Sam was nineteen and – in a sense at least – a rather independent brat as well. He just was really worried for Terry somehow.

Terry was seventeen, of course that as well was old enough for being left alone for a few hours, at least it should be under normal circumstances, but Terry wasn't normal, and Sam – on some levels – he wasn't normal either and he didn't know if Sam really would be able to handle Terry alone if none of them were at home.

But Sam had nodded when he had asked him and if he thought he could …

Bloody Slytherins! All of them would be in Slyhterin were they wizards and attending Hogwarts! The house of the damaged and unwanted children, the house of the abused and neglected children, the house of the forgotten children.

Well, nothing would go wrong. He shouldn't worry about the boys so much. Right now he had other, rather more important problems at hand and relieved he took a deep breath the moment he could see headlights in the distance.

That had to be James, and carefully he took his foot from the accelerator, letting the Jeep slowing down, carefully nearing the truck which he more and more could recognize as James'. It definitely would be very bad if would rash towards the truck with eighty miles per hour now and then would be unable to stop on the ice. They both would be trapped here and for a moment the Potions Master couldn't keep himself from smirking at that thought.

But he got serious again immediately, knowing that the moment had come and he feared what exactly he might find in the cabin. Carefully he steered the Cherokee in front of the truck, stopped the Jeep and with a frown gazed over at the larger vehicle. Had James not noticed his appearance? Quickly he took his emergency potions kit and left the car, but still the door of the truck didn't open yet and his heart started to race, his fingers started trembling while his quick strides sped up and he skidded to a stop while he at the same time climbed up the cabin and opened the driver's door to the truck.

When he climbed into the cabin, still with a racing heart he saw James sitting at the passenger's seat in the semidarkness, his feet leaning on the dashboard, motionless, his head leaning against the headrest and his eyes closed, and for a short moment he hesitated, nearly scared. What if he reached out his hand and the body he would touch was cold? Like Joshua's had been? What if …

_For Merlin's sake, get a grip at your self, Severus!_ He scowled at himself. _Are you mad? It won't help the brat if you ran crazy now._

He closed his eyes for another moment, took a deep breath and tried to get himself back under control. He forced himself to watch the younger man for a few seconds calmly, watching James' chest rising and falling softly with each breath he took and then he reached out his hand and softly touched his shoulder. The body neither was cold nor stiff.

Of course not! What had he been thinking?

"James?" He softly asked.

No reaction. Had he lost consciousness? Or was he just sleeping? Once more he placed his hand on the young man's shoulder, tightened the grip of his long fingers on the bony shoulder before he gently shook him.

"Potter!" He repeated, louder and more demanding than before and this time he got a reaction, even if it was none he really liked. James flinched startled, his hand gliding to Severus' hand that still rested on his shoulder, took it so tightly in his startled condition, Severus nearly pulled his own hand back but he withstood the temptation, allowed James to hold his wrist.

Or rather to hold onto his wrist? He didn't know.

Finally James tried to open his eyes, but when the bright light of the headlights shining on the snow outside was blinding him he quickly clenched them close again, giving away an agonized whimper, released Severus' wrist and pressed his hands at his eyes instead. But this too hurt and he pressed them at his forehead, once more whimpering in agony, pressing his back against the backrest of the seat before he doubled over in clear pain.

Severus could see that James' fingers trembled when he pressed them at his eyes, then at his forehead and he heard the whimper, and when the boy finally doubled over in agony he placed his hand at the tense back, tried to gain his attention.

"James?" He softly asked. "What is wrong?" He himself was calm again and he placed the emergency potions kit he had brought onto the driver's seat.

"What happened?" James quietly murmured.

"You have fallen asleep." He answered, his brows still furrowed. Well, the boy was awake and as it seemed he was alright aside from his burning eyes and a gigantic headache and that was all that mattered, the brat was alright so far.

"There were headlights." James continued murmuring.

"That, I guess, has been me." Severus answered, nearly smirking now. As it seemed James hadn't been sleeping so deeply if he had noticed him, most likely he only had been dozing.

"I wanted to swerve." Severus heard the soft whispering and his smirk faltered. To swerve? James' truck had been standing. Whereto and why in Merlin's name could he have swerved?

"James?" He asked in irritation.

"There was no space." Came the younger man's quiet answer, a whisper, a whisper only accompanied by a barely suppressed sob. "The street was too narrow."

Was the bloody boy really awake? Severus once more shook the damn brat's shoulder. "James? Potter!" He called. "Wake up! You are dreaming, wake up."

But James once more whimpered softly when Severus shook him, pressed his fists at his forehead even more tightly.

"My head." He groaned. Damn, his head hurt. He had the feeling that his head would explode at any moment, or implode, that didn't really mind, the outcome would be the same. If just that blasted car would stop rocking. "The idiot saw me and didn't stop." He continued murmuring. "It was Hudson and he's seen me, he's tried to get me off … damn, my head. I must have fallen off the slope …"

"Potter!" Severus shook him, forcefully this time, calling his name louder this time. "Merlin! Wake up, you are just dreaming!"

No he was not and Severus knew, but that had been six years ago and it hadn't been James who had been driving the car but Isaac – that at least had been what Mark had told him once. "You are forty miles away from Caribou and you have forgotten your sunglasses, that is all. You did not have an accident, you are just standing on the side of the ice road."

But still he did not get any other reaction than a softly murmured "the slope to the stone pit …"

"Potter! Wake up now!" Damn, why didn't he get the blasted brat awake? Slowly there was something like panic creeping up within him and he again tightened his grip on the bony shoulder, pressing the slender upper body upwards. Then he simply pushed the brat's legs off the dashboard, causing James to give away another agonized whimper and then climbed into the foot space of the passenger's side, pressing the young man up until he leaned with his back against the backrest of his seat.

"Open your yes, Potter, now! And look at me if I am speaking with you or you will serve detention with me until you graduate!" He ordered, demanded, while he at the same time tried to keep the much younger man in an upright position, watching him. Harry's face was as white as the snow outside, his eyes still closed and Severus even could hear his heart racing. "Potter! Open your eyes and look at me!" He again ordered and this time the blasted boy reacted, slowly opening his eyes with another whimper, but as it seemed he still couldn't see anything aside from the light outside that hurt his eyes as he blinked and then squinted them with a grimace of pain.

"Severus?" He softly asked. Slowly he realized where he was. He had called Severus and then he had tried to sleep, and as it seemed he actually had managed falling asleep despite his headaches, because he didn't remember Severus' arrival.

"Yes, it is me." Severus answered, relieved, and he locked his dark eyes with the green ones, trying to find out if he was alright so far and if he really was awake now. Well – he didn't seem to sleep anymore.

"Are you awake now?" He nevertheless asked and he could see James nodding his head, what however caused him to again lift his hands, to press them at his forehead with another soft and barely suppressed whimper.

"Are you alright?" He then asked and this time James knew better than to nod his head but murmured a soft "yes" what now caused Severus to give away a curt nod. But then he remembered that most likely James wouldn't be able to see him and he murmured a soft "good".

James still was sure to hear worry in Severus' voice and after the question if he finally was awake he was sure that the older man might have had troubles waking him. He couldn't see Severus, but in his mind he nearly could see the horrified expression on the other man's face and he couldn't keep from chuckling in amusement.

Severus still watched Potter and when he heard the bloody brat chuckling softly, his worry again started to rise. Had Potter lost his mind?

"_What?_" He asked, irritated, what however only caused James to laugh harder now, while he at the same time pressed his hands at his temples, groaning with pain. He really shouldn't laugh right now, that wasn't such a good thing.

"Nothing." James struggled to get serious again. It hurt when he laughed, it really hurt. "Nothing, I just tried to imagine your face." His voice sounded strange, he thought, and he had troubles speaking at all. He would like nothing more than just laying down and sleep. To sleep for two or three days without a break, for a week!

Severus shook his head, unbelievingly.

"You idiot boy!" He growled darkly. "Only _you_ can find any sense of humour in such a situation! Idiot!" But well, his next question was already answered as he'd had in mind to ask if James could recognize him – what he did not, as it seemed, and with his right hand he slowly released the boy's shoulder.

"Just stay where you are!" He ordered again his face a dark scowl while he reached for his potions kit and took out the potion for Potter's eyes.

"Lean back with your head." He then said. "I will administer eye drops that will help with the pain. Do not be startled, they will be cold." And even while he was speaking he opened the vial and filled the pipette, placing the small glass container onto the dashboard behind him. He placed his hand onto the boy's forehead, held the lid of his right eye open with the thumb of his left hand and allowed a drop to fall from the pipette and into James' eye, pressing the younger man's head against the headrest when James flinched back.

"Hold still!" He softly ordered but it didn't sound nearly as harsh as he thought it would.

Then he tried to repeat the same with the other eye but James took hold of his wrist, despite the fact that he couldn't actually see it clearly and held onto it tightly.

"Stop this!" He called out, blinking. "That hurts."

"I know." Severus softly answered, allowing James for a moment to hold his wrist. They had time after all. "But it has to be done. Your eyes will feel better in a moment, trust me, James."

A few seconds passed before James, with a resigned sigh, released his wrist, let Severus do what he wanted as long as it was over soon and he could go back to sleep then.

The Potions Master breathed a sigh of relief and then allowed another drop to fall into the other eye of the young man.

"It is time to get you home, brat!" He then calmly said while he closed the vial and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. As agile as he had been climbing between James's legs and into the passenger's foot space he now climbed back onto the driver's seat and took the mike of the radio.

"Bradley?" He calmly asked.

"Yes?" This time the answer came immediately. "Severus?"

"Yes, it is me." He answered. "I am with James right now and he is alright so far. I will take him home now. Are Big Bear and Worry on their way?" He then asked.

"Yes. They've started the moment you called. James is really alright?"

"He is." Severus answered. "We will start now, I will inform you the moment we are at home."

He turned the key in the ignition and the engine of the truck died down with a last trembling that ran through the truck and a moment later the headlights died down as well when he turned them off. Quickly he climbed down the cabin and rounded the truck, opened the passenger's door.

James was about to leave the cabin as well but Severus was already climbing up to him. "Not so quickly, brat, we won't want you getting off the truck with your head first." He growled. "I take it that _this_ particular body part of yours is already hurting enough."

He carefully watched James tapping for the dashboard and from there for the door, ready to help if it were necessary, but then he slowly retreated to leave room for the boy leaving the cabin, still not leaving his eyes off the smaller figure.

But then the youg wizard stood. He stood and he stood rather securely, he noticed, impressed. At least until the young man did his first step, then he nearly stumbled over his own legs that seemed stiff and clumsy and Severus who still was half a step behind him quickly reached forwards and gripped his shoulders, steadied him until he had found his balance again, stood securely again – and gaining an angry cursing from the young man – what only caused him to smirk evilly however.

"Slowly, brat." He quietly said, watching how he again pressed his hands against his forehead and slowly he led James to the waiting Jeep. He opened the passenger's door and placed James' hand onto the doorframe. "Get into the car. I will be back in a minute. I only will lock the truck and secure the keys." He said, turning back to the larger vehicle.

James felt his way to the seat and sat down, breathing out in relief, finally! He was sitting in the Jeep. Severus was here and would bring him home! Home! This particular word was suddenly so strange to him that he really thought how in the world it had gotten to that. At home, that was where Severus was. At home, that was _anywhere_, as long as Severus was with him at this anywhere. It was good that Severus was here. That he lived at his side, that he could depend on him, that he … that he was his friend.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Once more Severus climbed up into the cabin of the truck and took his emergency potions kit from the driver's seat where he had placed it earlier and then jumped down, the knowledge of Harry being alright and safe in the Jeep, ready to be brought home, giving him the confidence for acting like he were a young man of twenty-three instead of a forty-three years old Potions Master and with a smirk he landed safely on the icy surface. He locked the doors and then placed the keys in the exhaust, wondering who in Merlin's name would steal the truck out here in the wilderness – but well – he had to lock the doors and hide the keys – so what, better safe than sorry after all.

Finally he went back to the Jeep and – knowing that James wouldn't be able to see him right now – he wet the towel he had brought with a silent aquamenti and a cooling charm.

"Do not be startled, this will be cold." He said while he placed the towel over the boy's eyes. At the end he opened the thermal coffee pot from James' backpack and poured some of the coffee into the cup, opened the extra vial he had brought and added a few drops of it into the coffee. He placed the cup at the younger man's lips, dipping the bottom with a "drink" before the brat could react and James had no other chance than to drink – and therefore to swallow the coffee with the potion, only able to grip the older man's wrists to somehow do at least _anything_ instead of simply sitting there.

The moment the Potions Master put the cup away from his lips and James could breathe again he started to curse Severus to hell and back, but it didn't help, the older man simply got his seat into a more laying position, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Shut up, keep your eyes closed and sleep, you imbecile!" He said while he leaned forwards, inserted the gear and then slowly turned the Cherokee.

"Yes, mother." James growled angrily, but he wasn't _really_ angry and Severus knew this, smirking nearly happily while he carefully, bit by bit, accelerated his speed until he was driving with sixty miles per hour to the south, towards home.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_Brian, Sam and Terry._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:  
**

at the present time it looks like this:

504 Points - Slytherin

463 Points - Gryffindor

418 Points - Ravenclaw

184 Points - Hufflepuff


	11. Brian, Sam and Terry

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … I do not have much experience in Harry Potter stories … it is my first one, I have to admit …

**Please Note:** _ surely you know that NaNo is over since a week now – and yet, I haven't written a chapter … I'm right now editing what I've been writing so that you'll get one or anther added chapter to the story I will update next, whichever that will be … I do promise to update one of my stories as soon as possible – please let me know which one you would like being continued next …_

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Here and now**

**Chapter eleven **

**Brian, Sam and Terry**

**December 2003**

Once more Severus smirked when he remembered that particular even. It really had been mean to throw James off guard the way he had done back then, but James really had fallen asleep just a few minutes later and in this moment he hadn't looked any different than one of the boys, harmless and innocent. Even if that already was a contradiction in itself, James and harmless or even innocent, and he nearly chuckled at that thought while he cast a quick tempus. Seven o'clock, and he had half an hour until he reached Caribou. He was on schedule.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Is Severus already gone?" Brian's voice startled him out of his light sleep. The fourteen year old stood in the kitchen door and the moment James looked up at him he entered, took a bowl and the carton of cornflakes from the cupboard, got milk from the fridge and then sat at the table.

"Yes." James answered while he gazed over at the clock on the microwave. Already seven, damn, where had time gone to? Had he fallen asleep? But then he shook his head, no, he was sure that he had not fallen asleep. He just had been dreaming a bit. "Yes, Severus is gone since two hours already. Slept well?" He asked while he took a sip of his coffee – just to grimace. Cold! And with a sigh he lightened a cigarette.

"Hm m." Brian made, his mouth full, looking over at James with a questioning gaze, and James nodded back at him. Yes, he too had been sleeping well. Not really actually, but Brian didn't need to know this. The brat had already enough trouble with himself.

"Have you packed everything you need?" He asked, his green eyes piercing the boy seriously.

"I'll have a look in a moment."

"All your homework is done?"

"I've done them already on Friday."

"Good." James said with a resigned sigh. Brian was a boy with a really kind and open heart who wanted nothing else than to do right and to please everyone, but he was sure that the boy was the most forgetful and most awkward boy that existed on this God forsaken planet named Earth. Anything he could forget – he _did_ forget, he dropped anything he held in his hands, stumbled over his own feet and he wasn't able to sit still for just two bloody seconds. And sometimes he acted – simply strange.

In school Brian always was in trouble and he didn't know where this would lead to in the end, what he should do with the brat as he had tried anything he could think of and somehow he was at the end of his rope.

Of course this didn't mean that he didn't love the brat less because of this, but it … simply complicated things. The appointment tomorrow morning with Brian's teacher wasn't the first one he had since this school year had started and he knew that it wouldn't be the last one either. Except the blasted woman would finally find a reason to expel the brat, what she actually had threatened him with already and only Severus had been able to prevent that.

Of course Severus had the boy in his class as well when he taught during the summer months, but he said that Brian did well in his class, that he was restless and fidgeting, unable to sit still or to concentrate for a time span of 45 minutes, but he was intelligent and he never disturbed the class deliberately.

And as James knew from rumors that Severus was a rather strict teacher that had his eyes everywhere at the same time – well, Brian most likely wasn't able to pull any stunts with him. On the other hand – Brian wasn't a child that pulled stunts in school in the first place. Severus would have mentioned something if he were.

When it came to Sam and Terry, it had been James who had brought them home, but Brian had been brought to their house by Severus.

Brian had been the neighbouring boy, at least for a few months. When exactly had the brat arrived at West Hamleton? It had to be sometime during June or July 2001. The old Jefferson had taken him in. James and Severus both had been more than just a bit surprised about child services giving the responsibility for a twelve year old to Jefferson in the first place, it had seemed rather irresponsible.

The old Jefferson was an alcoholic as far as James could remember. Well yes, that wasn't really long, he had to admit that, but everyone in town knew that the old drunkard always had been an admiral on the red and it was absolutely unimportant to him if it was a bottle of beer or a bottle of whiskey, as long as it was alcohol, at all. He wasn't even able to care for himself, so how should he had been able to care for a twelve year old brat?

Maybe the pedagogues had thought they would do something good. Let's give the responsibility for a difficult child that no one wants to an old and grumpy drunkard that has no job, and maybe both of them will educate each other. What a crap, honestly! Only a pedagogue could come op with such rubbish, really, all of them were nuts in his opinion, those idiots.

However, Brian had lived next door, well, what one could call next door out here after all, and he mostly had kept himself in the shed that stood on the east side of the Jefferson property to be alone. And honestly, he really had made James' and Severus' life a living hell for some time. There had been not one single week during which not one of their windows had been broken by the brat, either one of the windows of the house or of the car, either with a stone or any tool.

The brat had even developed a talent for throwing things. He had thrown anything he had gotten his fingers at and he hadn't cared where he had thrown it at. Once one of the stones the brat had thrown had even hit him on his shoulder.

Well, the brat had looked shocked, startled, but he had not offered an apology at all but had even tried to defend himself with screaming at him when James had tried to confront him. After just a few minutes the two of them had been standing face to face and had been screaming at each other.

James had been really angry back then and he had really considered to finally call Mark. The brat really had done enough and it was enough. But in the end he had not done so, whatever reason for. Had the brat had come across someone else than James, then he surely would have been in a lot of trouble, but James simply had been good naturally, had murmured something about destroyed future and then he had shrugged off the incident, had even forgotten it rather soon, as much as he had been upset by the brat.

Well, back then Severus and he had been living together for – not quite two years and back then Severus had not known … had not seen his scars and the moment the older man had asked him to get off his T-shirt so he could have a look at the cut on his shoulder that had started bleeding through the fabric, the moment he finally had gotten the boy and the – boy sperated, James had looked at him with wide eyes, had nearly been startled out of his wits and he had vehemently refused.

He had seen the frown upon Severus' face back then, had seen his eyes narrowing at him, and he had already known him well enough to know that he had been suspecting something, but he hadn't cared and had left him standing in the living room, had gone to his study and he had put on his headset, had turned the volume of his music up as far as it went and had tried to forget that Severus might have suspected something.

However, loud music had been standard concerning Brian and sometimes the brat had his music as loud as had James – with the exception that James used a headset, not so Brian. Where the brat had taken the power from, out there, that had been a riddle to both, Harry and Severus.

Well, the music he had listen to hadn't been the worst, he had to admit that, but definitely too loud. And if you were listening to one single song over and over again all day long, several days long – you really got nuts with time. Especially Severus had nearly been driven mad by that and sometimes he really had managed to stop the music, however he had done that. Somehow he couldn't help thinking that it had been one of the strange things Severus sometimes did, one of those forbidden things, some of the things that were bad and needed being punished. And he'd always tried to forget it as soon as possible, hoping that never anyone would find out about these strange things Severus were doing, before they would punish him for it.

Shuddering he frowned and forced his mind away from that particular thoughts.

Well, it – sometimes – had been alright with James, that thing with the music. He himself could hear one single song over and over again for hours, but Severus had been really driven mad by this sometimes.

And then the constant screaming of the old Jefferson if Brian had done something – or even if he hadn't done anything, that hadn't really mattered at all. The old drunkard hadn't been able to speak normally with the boy, he only always had been able to scream at him. Well, he was drunk all the time, after all – but that neither was an excuse, nor was it a pleasant thing anyway.

Once Brian had been climbing one of the trees on the Jefferson property and he had thrown apples for hours. Of course some of them had hit their driveway too, but the brat hadn't cared about that. After a few minutes James had called over to him that he please should cease his throwing of apples into their driveway, but the brat still had not cared about that. He only then had stopped the moment Severus had placed a basket at the driveway and had told the boy that he, if possible, please should take a good aim and fill the basket so he could make an apple pie in the evening. Not one single apple had been thrown anymore after that.

In the evening Severus just had said that the bloody boy actually was sleeping in that blasted tree.

Well, that was typically for Severus. On one hand the two of them were getting at each other's throats every now and then and verbal battles were fought between them, Severus definitely voicing his opinion that someone should take the boy over their knees to get him a sound spanking, but the moment he saw him late in the night sleeping up on a tree – he had been worried. What if he fell down in the middle of the night?

He wouldn't fall, James just had answered. After all, he too had been sleeping in trees when he'd been a teenager without falling off them, at least Mark had told him so. And nevertheless he too had cast worried glances over to the tree from time to time during this night.

A few months however after Brian had been given to the old Jefferson the situation had nearly got out of hands. The brat – once again – had thrown things, what had however been strange as it had stopped for weeks and weeks before that. Nothing had been thrown anymore and nothing had been destroyed anymore and Jame and Severus already had thought that – alright that's been that then. Not that they had been missing it, but something had been wrong, definitely wrong, and if Brian had done something then, then he hadn't even screamed at them anymore but had turned and simply walked away.

He knew – it wasn't the most proper or respectful behaviour, yes, but well – he had to admit that it had been better than being screamed at by an impertinent brat.

However, the day Brian had gotten into trouble with Severus again after a long time of peace, he again had been throwing something. It had been a hammer and it had hit Severus at his head. Brian's luck actually had been that the hammer only had strived Severus, had left only a slightly bloody scratch on his forehead, but Severus had nevertheless finally lost his patience and angrily he had gone over to the brat to show him his displeasure. He really, really had been angry then, and that was something that didn't happen often.

Alright, yes, he had to admit that Severus was an impatient man and that he could be very nasty, that he had a temper, and that he could be very intimidating whenever he leaned his hands onto the tabletop and leaned close to him, James, his black eyes piercing him, his deep and velvet voice hissing at him, then he had to admit that – yes, Severus was a very frightening man and he was glad that he never had been a student of him.

But he never had seen Severus getting as angry as he had gotten back then. Well, Severus simply hadn't been ready to deal with the brat anymore the way they had until then and so he had gone over to the property of the old Jefferson.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**September 2001**

He had thought that he would get a callous or an angry look from the brat before he would turn and leave him standing there, like always since a few weeks now, or that the brat would scream at him angrily, like he had done in the past, and Severus really had considered to knock at the old Jefferson's door this time and to speak with the old man about the boy. But the reaction the brat showed this time, he hadn't expected this reaction and it not only surprised him, but it worried him.

Brian slowly took a step backwards, his eyes never leaving him while his already pale face had become ashen. His eyes had gone large with fear and trembling he looked from Severus to the driveway and then back to Severus, clearly looking for an escape route and the Potions Master could see the panic rising in the wide eyes.

He knew that look, and he didn't like it, and with a dark scowl on his face he stopped his approach, watching the teen carefully.

Brian however had taken another step backwards, quickly, nearly stumbling over the root of a tree that stood to his left until he hit with his back to the wall of the shed behind him and he gave a startled flinch away, pressed himself at the wooden wall while he watched Severus with a scared expression on his face.

"That … I didn't … I didn't want that …" Brian softly stammered. "I … I'm sorry about that … really. That … I didn't want to hurt you … I'm sorry! Really! _I'm sorry_!"

The last words he nearly had screamed in panic when Severus had not reacted and accepted his apology, definitely sounding desperate and Severus still stood in front of him, surprised by that unexpected rant, watching him. And right now he didn't watch him with an angry gaze but with a thoughtful one and with narrowed eyes when he realized – the brat actually feared him, whatever reason for, and he slowly lifted both hands, his palms turned upwards to show the boy that he wouldn't hurt him.

This wasn't what he had expected, such a reaction he wasn't used to when it came to this boy, and his face darkened – because he knew such reactions from his Slytherins.

"I have no intentions of hurting you, calm down." He calmly said, but if Brian had heard him, then he ignored Severus' soft words, because he didn't react to them and when the Potions Master took another step towards him he slid down the wall of the shed with a soft cry of fear, huddling together into a small ball on the floor and folding his arms over his head.

The cry, as soft as it had been, it had nearly startled Severus because he had not only been able to hear the fear in it but the pain as well and – as strange as it seemed to him … some kind of plea, the desperate plea for help, and once more he stopped mid-step, lowering his head to one side. He hesitated for another moment, but then he slowly approached the boy and crouched down in front of him, starting to understand.

He took a deep breath when his assumptions manifested themselves in his mind and slowly, so he wouldn't startle the boy again, he gripped Brian's wrists and gently removed his arms from his head so he could gaze into the child's scared eyes, calmly and questioningly. The boy had flinched startled when he had felt Severus' hands that had taken his wrists, had held them and had pulled them away from his head where he had placed them to protect his head and he had started to fight against the grip, but Severus had known he would and he had been prepared.

Brian was just about to give away another scream, one of frustration, one that maybe might startle the man, might get the man going away and leaving him alone, but then he heard Severus' quiet voice and he nearly gasped at the softness and the silkiness of the deep and dark voice.

"It is alright, boy." Severus softly whispered. "It is alright. I won't hurt you. You do not need to fear me. Nothing has happened aside from a scratch, and this one I surely will survive. So calm down, child."

Brian looked up at him, hesitatingly, searching the black eyes that somehow frightened him, trying to decide if he could believe the man or not, but then those black eyes that on one hand frightened him so much, they also seemed to reassure him and the panic yielded back a bit, beneath the surface.

Severus gave a satisfied nod and with slow movements he released the boy's wrists, took him at his shoulders and pulled him close, pulled him simply into his arms, one hand resting lightly onto his trembling shoulders and the others placed on the red hair. He had the feeling that it was _this_ the brat had needed, would have needed a long time ago and he realized his mistake.

The boy never had needed a good spanking, but a bit more attention and care.

Just now, looking the boy over closely, he realized how thin Brian was. The brat always had been a scarecrow, but Severus thought that the boy he right now was holding was really nothing else than bones and skin. That wasn't the lanky scrawny appearance of a young teenager, that was already starved and angrily he shook his head. This time however not out of anger about Brian, but out of fury over the old Jefferson.

That boy was as thin and as bony as was James!

Just when Brian started to relax in the Potions Master's embrace the angry and rough screaming of the old drunkard came from the direction of the house and once more Brian was about to give a startled scream away, tried to break free from Severus' arms, to run from the screaming, and in this moment the older wizard knew that he had been right with his earlier thoughts.

"I think you better come with me right now." He quietly and with a calm but strict voice said while he tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder to keep him from running away.

Brian lifted his head, looked at him unsurely, but then he nodded, still trembling, and he knew that Mr. Snape knew what had happened.

Severus slowly got off the ground, pulled Brian with him to his feet and the boy, unresistingly, allowed him to lead him from the garden and over to the neighbouring ground and driveway, and then inside the house of his neighbours after Severus had opened the door.

He led him on his shoulder to the sofa that stood in the living room near the fire and sat him down there with a short "sit" before he turned towards the door. "I will get something to drink." He then added while already leaving the room.

Brian was sitting there alone and looked around the strange living room unsurely while he wondered why Mr. Snape trusted him enough to allow him sitting here alone. He was a difficult child and a criminal after all and for a moment he thought that maybe it just was a test Mr. Snape was putting him through?

He didn't even dare moving a millimetre and the moment Severus came back he still was sitting the way he had left the boy, stiff and motionless.

"You do not have to hold your breath and you are allowed to move." He said, growling, but it wasn't an angry growl but rather a good natured one and he placed one of the two cups he held in his hands at the table in front of Brian while he sat down into an armchair opposite the boy with the other cup in his hand.

Again he watched the boy and he still could see the fear that was hidden behind his eyes. And yet – there was something else too and Severus needed a few minutes until he finally realized what had changed contraire to a few weeks earlier. But the moment he did realize what it was, he didn't like it. He wasn't just able to feel the fear that radiated off Brian, but he also could see in his eyes that the frustration had made room for resignation and slowly he could recognize the clear picture.

The angry and mostly rude behaviour of the boy, the constant throwing of any kind of items, the way he had tried to defend himself with screaming at people – all of this only had happened out of pure frustration. Not because he really had wanted to hurt people or to anger people, but because he had been frustrated over himself, over the situation he had found himself in, because he had not found any other way. And the more Severus thought about that situation, the more he could understand the boy – and he began to understand that the boy meanwhile had started to give up, he had resigned, whatever reason for.

"Drink!" He quietly ordered and with an encouraging nod of his head he pointed at the cup that still stood at the table in front of Brian which the boy still had not touched. "Otherwise it will get cold."

But only slowly Brian took the cup, not really knowing what he should think of the situation he finally had found himself in, not really knowing what to do. What did Mr. Snape want of him? Why was he so kind? He knew well that he had angered him since he had come here, that they often enough had gotten at each other's throats even if he never really had meant to. But he doubted that Mr. Snape knew that. He was thinking like the twelve year old boy he was, not knowing that adults _sometimes_ were able to understand what a child felt.

Severus on the other hand knew exactly what the brat thought, because he had to keep himself from smirking while he watched the boy over the rim of his own cup.

"Your name is Brian, isn't it?" He asked.

Of course he knew exactly that the boy's name was Brian and he just as well knew how old he was, but he wanted to draw him out and into a conversation and he knew that asking a few questions the boy would have to answer would be the best way – before he would tiptoe to the point he wanted to reach.

But his attempt of getting the boy to answering his questions was without success, because Brian only nodded at him unsurely while he – at least – did as he was told and took a sip of the hot chocolate he had brought him.

"You are twelve now, aren't you?" He nevertheless continued asking, even if just to show him that he already knew one thing or another about him.

Again Brian slowly nodded, just nodded, without giving a verbal answer and Severus sighed with frustration. That wasn't really what he had wanted to achieve. Had the brat lost his voice? But then – he knew exactly that the boy was in a foreign house, together with a stranger he had angered a few times already and he simply was unsure and shy. He couldn't keep the smirk from crossing his face at the thought of the word shy in combination with that particular boy – and yet – it just _was_ like that.

"What happened?" He finally asked. He left it open for Brian to tell him what had happened today so that he had reacted so frightened or to tell him what had happened at all so that he had been handed to the old Jefferson. Should the boy decide what he wanted to talk about, but Brian only looked at him questioningly before he shook his head.

"Nothing." He then whispered and he lowered his gaze.

What Brian however couldn't know was that Severus not only had some experiences in dealing with abused children, considering that he had been the head of Slytherin back at Hogwarts, but that he as well had been able to gather enough experiences in dealing with James when it came to pulling worms out of someone's nose as well, that he had been able to learn from James enough of the strange behaviour of some people and thoughtfully he nodded. Somehow, in one way or another … in one way or another he imagined Harry James Potter having been the same as a youth – maybe not as aggressive, but similar to Brian. Once more he sighed.

"Alright, Brian, look at me." He said with a voice that still sounded calm but at the same time had a commanding note to it and Brian really lifted his gaze, nearly against his will and looked into his black eyes. "I doubt that you really are criminal or a difficult child like people say." He started and he nearly had to smirk again at the startled gaze from the boy. "I rather think that you are just unsure and a bit unhappy with your situation and that you are a bit awkward because of your unsureness. Maybe a bit thoughtless even, a bit short-tempered, nervous – but absolutely not criminal. And therefore you do not have to fear me. You can speak to me."

Brian still didn't answer but watched Mr. Snape silently while his thoughts started to run a mile within his head. Was it really possible that there was an adult that really could understand him? And even if – then what should he tell him? Or was Mr. Snape just playing an act? Why should Mr. Snape care where no other one did? Frustrated he curled his hands into fists and pressed his lips together, again looking to the side. He just didn't know what to do, how he should behave, what Mr. Snape expected of him.

Severus was silent for a few minutes, intending to give Brian some time to sort his thoughts, to get used to the situation and it seemed to work, because the moment he asked his next question Brian looked at him.

"How come that you ended up with Mr. Jefferson? You see, he isn't what I would call a – perfect caretaker, after all." Well, that definitely was the most unbelievable understatement of the century and now Severus really couldn't suppress a soft snort. The old Jefferson rather was one of the most un-perfect human beings existing.

"Probably because no one else wanted me." Brian's voice got through his thoughts and Severus, startled that he finally had gotten an answer that was more than one syllable, was sure that he not only could hear frustration in the soft voice but bitterness as well. The boy knew exactly that no one wanted him and he only could imagine how frustrating this surely had to be, to be unwanted by anyone. Silently he watched the boy's face that slowly had gotten some colour back, seriously nodding to encourage him to go on – he would listen.

"Well, I've been in a lot of families already, but never for long." The boy's voice still was just a soft whisper, but Severus could understand every word. "I've over and over again thrown things and got windows destroyed or other things, and each time I rather quickly was thrown out then."

"And so you ended up with Mr. Jefferson." Severus stated. "He does not get along with you and you not with him. The rumours about you are swirling through that one-horse town and so you had a difficult time from the beginning. Not really a funny thought." He then added before he fixed Brian with his dark eyes seriously. "He has beaten you, am I correct?"

At this question Brian had flinched startled and he had known at the same moment that despite the _'am I correct'_ it had not been a question but a statement. But what should he answer? Should he deny? Mr, Snape would not believe him, because he already knew that Jefferson had done. Should he admit it? then he most likely would ask what he had done so that he had gotten a beating. But he hadn't done anything – what Mr, Snape surely wouldn't believe either.

But he knew that it wouldn't get him anywhere if he lied – except that it got him a beating. That was something he soon had learned and so he simply shrugged his shoulders while he kept his eyes trained on the cup he still held in his hands.

Severus had watched him with a thoughtfully lifted eyebrow and now he slowly nodded, still thoughtfully and his dark eyes had become very serious.

"I want to have a look at you please, Brian." He then quietly but strictly said.

Brian's head shot up and alarmed he looked at Severus. Severus looked back, his face still serious but his eyes nearly held some sort of amusement at Brian's horrified look.

"I just want to have a look at you, Brian." He said. "You are sitting here since nearly half an hour, stiff and rigid, and you not only are avoiding to lean back but you also are avoiding too much movement that would cause your shirt rub over your back and I want to have a look at that. Nothing more and nothing less either."

Brian still was sitting there – motionless, silent, just looking at him startled and Severus lifted his eyebrow at the boy.

"Do not look at me that horrified, boy." He growled. "Can you not imagine that there are people who want to help you? I just want to have a look at that. I would act carelessly and negligent if I let you go just like that, because I do not really think that the old Jefferson would care for any possible injuries. Not to mention that I doubt you even would show him. You are afraid of him and I even can understand your reasoning rather well. And now get this shirt off!"

It had been an order, even if a docile one. Mr. Snape's voice was still calm and gentle, nearly a bit amused, even if Brian thought – with some astonishment – that he could hear a hint of worry within the voice and slowly, still unsurely, he got off his shirt.

Severus got off, stepped over to Brian calmly and then turned him on his shoulders to the side a bit while his gaze went furious. The brat looked as if the old Jefferson had taken the next best item and simply had beaten the boy randomly with it. A few bloody scratches and colourful bruises were covering old not quite healed scars and Severus knew that it hadn't been the first time.

Angrily he pressed his lips together for a moment.

"That has to be cared for." He then said and some parts of his anger surely was heard in his voice, because Brian flinched startled. "Stay calm, Brian." He quietly said. "I am not angry at you but at the old Jefferson. I do not like children being beaten like that, whatever reasons for. Wait here, I will get something to tend this here with."

Angrily he turned and with a scowl on his face he left the room, went towards the bathroom and Brian once again was left behind alone, even more unsure than he had been before, distrusting. What should he do now? Mr. Snape wasn't back yet, he still could get up and leave, just go and hide in his room, lay into his bed and pull the blanket over his head, hoping that the old Jefferson would sleep for the remainder of the day.

But the moment passed and even before he had made a decision Severus went back to the living room, carrying some things and a few clothes in his hand and came to the sofa. He placed a cleaning solution and a jar with healing balm onto the table and sat beside the boy.

"Turn." He said while he already had taken his shoulders and turned him so that he was sitting with his back to him. His voice still sounded angry, but Brian seemed to understand that his anger wasn't directed at him and slowly he started to calm down again, to relax a bit. "I will clean this and then I will cover it with a balm that will help healing the scratches and cuts. And after that I will prepare dinner. James will be here soon and you too look hungry."

Brian thought for a moment. Hungry? Was he hungry? He didn't know when it had been the last time he had eaten a decent meal, somehow he had lost track on that – but hungry? No, he wasn't really hungry and so he shook his head.

Severus covered one of the clothes he had brought with the cleaning solution when he noticed the boy's headshake and he frowned angrily again. So the brat was already over the point where he recognized the feeling of hunger, his body having gotten used to that and his head simply not reacting to it anymore – didn't he know that from someone else already?

However, most likely there simply wasn't anything else than empty beer- and whiskey bottles to be found over there within the old Jefferson's household. Well, the hunger would come, he knew.

"Do not be startled, that might hurt a bit now." He warned the brat before he gently started to clean the scratches and the cuts on the boy's back. Brian nevertheless flinched at the touch, held his breath, but he kept silent throughout the entire procedure.

He still was startled that Mr. Snape of all people, whom he had angered so much, was now caring for him. The mind of the teenager simply couldn't understand that, never mind how much he wondered about it.

The moment Severus had finished he simply had reached a new shirt at the boy while watching him. He had calmed down and his eyes didn't hold the anger anymore they had held earlier, his voice sounding as calm as it normally did.

"Shall I inform child welfare?" He asked. There simply had to be done something and he couldn't go the wizarding way. Not only did he live in a muggle environment, but Brian was a muggle as well – and James, even if being a wizard, didn't know that he was one, reacted rather strongly whenever he started commenting on something akin to that.

He had started using hidden magic over the years, and he was sure that James had noticed, he was sure because the younger man sometimes looked at him strangely, as if being scared of him, but he never commented on it, fled any conversation about that subject instead.

Brian however quickly shook his head after he had – unsurely and therefore awkwardly – put the shirt on he had given the boy. It was too large, it easily reached his knees and he had to roll up his sleeves at least three times so that his hands were seen, but it was clean, and it was soft, and he nearly felt comfortable.

"No." He quietly answered. "They said that if it won't work this time either, then I'll have to go to an orphanage. They just don't find anyone anymore who would want me. This here is my last chance, I don't want to go to an orphanage."

Well, Severus wasn't thrilled about that, but he nevertheless nodded slowly. He could understand that Brian didn't want to go to an orphanage and – well, he would find a solution.

"Is the old Jefferson sober right now?" He asked, even if he was sure that he knew the answer. And just like he had thought – Brian shook his head.

"No, I think he rather is about to sleep off his booze." The boy said. "I don't think he'll wake until evening. He'd started drinking early this morning. There was something wrong, dunno what, but he was angry. Maybe they had cut his benefits, whatever. I don't know. I don't care."

Severus looked at the boy startled. He had gotten off the sofa meanwhile and had left fort he kitchen, waving the boy over to follow him and now he pulled a chair from the table, gesturing him to sit down at the table.

"No, Brian." He said, watching he boy seriously. "You should care. Whatever problems he has , they are caused by his alcohol consume and he does not have the right to beat you like this, you should know that and I would prefer if child welfare knew about this."

But again Brian shook his head while he sat down at the table. Severus started cooking dinner and then setting the table.

"Alright." He said while stirring eggs in the pan. "But I think you better stay here until tonight. Until then Jefferson hopefully will be sober and I'll go over to him then and have a word with him."

**December 2003**

And this was what had happened – at least _he_ had planned on it.

James had come home just minutes after the table had been laid – and he had lifted his eyebrow the moment he had entered the kitchen, when he'd seen the neighbouring brat. But well, he hadn't said anything but just had looked at him, Severus, questioningly.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**September 2001**

He frowned when Severus didn't give him an answer but lightly shook his head, barely visible, and he sat at the table beside the brat who had caused so much trouble, wondering what might have happened that Severus had invited the little monster for dinner.

Surely the old Jefferson had something to eat for the boy himself.

But then, upon a second thought he had to admit that – just that wasn't the case necessarily, and yes, admittedly, the boy was thin, but were not all boy's that age thin? But when he thought about that a second time as well – he had to admit that they were not _that_ thin.

However – he would learn more about it soon enough, surely Severus would talk with him as soon as he had a chance. And nevertheless, he was sitting on the edge to know the reason of Severus' civility towards the brat.

What's been his name? Brian. Brian? Yes, Brian.

"Any achievement?" Severus asked, getting him out of his thoughts with his question and James looked up, shook his head in frustration.

"Nothing." He answered with a sigh. "No interurban tours down in south. I hate summer. If the garage won't run, then we won't have any other chance than doing those small courier routes between Churchill and West Hamleton. You do know that I get claustrophobia in those small little vehicles? Have I ever told you that I _hate_ summer?"

"Hmm, just a moment ago." Severus had sat down opposite him meanwhile. "Never mind, you are saying so now, but in winter you are complaining about hating winter because then you are freezing." The blasted man laughed while taking a slice of bread. At the same time prompting the Brian boy to take some food as well. "I have never met any person owning the ability to hate as much things and complain about them like you."

"And I never have met a person owning the ability complaining about their poor cohabitants as do you." He answered bad tempered. He wanted a job during which he could drive with his truck instead of one of those mini-vehicles and he definitely didn't want to stop and get out of the car every few yards to deliver small packages and then drive a few yards more.

_And_ – he wanted to know why the neighbouring brat was here.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**December 2003**

However, not Severus but Harry had gone to the house of the old Jefferson in the end, had knocked and after a few seconds he had been able to see light turning on in the house. A door had opened within and a second, brighter light had been turned on and he had been able to hear slurping steps coming close to his position on the front entrance, accompanied by a soft murmur he had _not_ been able to understand.

Severus had put Brian to sleep on the sofa at one point during the evening, after he – without success – had tried to get the boy to eating more than just a slice of buttered bread, had told him that he better slept right now and then he had come back to the kitchen. He had told him what had happened today and slowly but surely James had started to understand – while shadowy pictures had started to form pale memories within his head.

Maybe they had not even been real memories, maybe rather foreshadows, ideas, whatever, he didn't really know, more emotions which foretold memories – but that hadn't been important. He had started to understand and he really had become angry.

"Stay with the monster." He had told Severus. "He knows you already, not so me. I'll go and visit the old Jefferson."

There hadn't been any further discussions because he already had gone up and left the house even before Severus had had the chance to say anything in reply. And then he had been standing there in front of his neighbour's door, expecting anything if considering the fact that the old Jefferson was an alcoholic since years. He had expected anything, or at least nearly anything – but he surely had not expected what he had found then, not really at least.

It had been a hole.

The windows and the doors all had been leaky since long, maybe always had been and on the walls, on the windows and in the corners mildew had gathered permanently. It had been cold in the house as the cold had invaded through all the cracks and openings, had nested into the masonry itself so that even now, during late spring the house had been a cold hole. And the ovens most likely hadn't worked enough to get the rooms warm during winter since long.

And the old Jefferson himself?

He had emerged in the door in old and dirty Jeans and an even more dirty undershirt, unwashed, unshaved, and the oily hair had been felted. Cavernous, red eyes had stared at him dully from a pale and thin face. No – he still hadn't been sober completely and James had wondered if he ever had been sober during the past few months or years.

Technically he had wanted to give the old man a piece of his mind, had planned to rant at him, but now – the old Jefferson wouldn't even have understood what he would have told him. Damn! And with such a bloody alcoholic Brian had been forced to live with! Again the anger had risen within him, but it just as soon had ceased, had made place for resignation and with a serious gaze had had fixed the old Jefferson.

"Brian is residing at our house." He had said finally. "And there he will stay."

But the old Jefferson still had looked at him dully, nothing more and nothing else.

"Did you understand what I have said just a moment ago?" He had asked, still looking at the drunkard seriously and Jefferson finally had nodded.

"Good. Brian will stay with us, and tomorrow morning we will visit child welfare together with the boy to get custody and to make sure that the boy gets out of here. This here – " James had pointed at the dark hole behind Jefferson. "This here is no place for any child to grow up."

Jefferson still had watched him, slowly understanding what Potter had told him, what his words would mean for him and his dull eyes actually had started to show something like emotion, they had become angry.

"Wanna'low Potter." He had hissed in his half-drunken state. "Wannalet smoney from welfare foryeh, a'ye mad?"

James had shaking his head without understanding.

So that it had been, his dole had been cancelled, but he still had the money from child welfare that he could waste on drinking.

"I don't care about your opinion, Jefferson, the boy will stay with us and I don't care if you like it or not, Go back to your drink or sleep it off, I don't care. I have informed you about Brian's whereabouts and I don't have to do anything more than this." And with these words he had turned, had left the old man's properties and had gone back home, had been looking forwards to his own warm and bright home, once more considering what kind of dark and cold, shabby hole Brian had been forced to live while he – and not for the first time – could see bleary and cloudy pictures and emotions forming together to memories.

And nearly at the same time he had known – the boy would stay with them.

He just hadn't known how to tell Severus. A young boy and living in their household? And then _this_ boy of all things? Most likely Severus would pull his hair, wringing his hands. But then – it hadn't been a problem at all because either Severus had had the same thought already, or he had seen it on his face. However, it wasn't important, because Severus had already greeted him with the words "I take it the brat will stay here" and he, James, he simply had nodded, wordlessly.

Everything had been settled.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_On the road again._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:  
**

at the present time it looks like this:

505 Points - Slytherin

464 Points - Gryffindor

419 Points - Ravenclaw

186 Points - Hufflepuff


	12. on the road again

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … I do not have much experience in Harry Potter stories … it is my first one, I have to admit …

******Please Note:** _ surely you know that NaNo is over – and yet, I haven't written a chapter … I'm still busy editing what I've been writing, so you'll get one or anther chapter of this story here. I actually guess I will do so next week too so that I have 13 chapters like with "by the end of the day" as 13 is a good number … I do promise to update one of my other stories as soon as possible – please let me know which one you would like being continued next …_

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

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* * *

**Here and now**

**Chapter twelve **

**On the road again**

**December 2003**

Once more he sighed and took a drag of his cigarette before he finally stood and put his coffee into the microwave.

"Go and check your pencil-case and make sure that all the pencils are sharpened." He said while he set the clock on the microwave to a minute and then turned towards Brian. "You know how Mrs. Manson reacts to …"

Well, he noticed that Brian didn't even listen to him and slowly he went towards the table, stood beside the boy and tipped his shoulder.

"Brian!" He said, demandingly, and the boy looked up, questioningly, startled over James' serious gaze and James lifted his left eyebrow. It wasn't the first time that Brian didn't seem to listen and Severus had been with the boy to see an ear specialist, but the audiometry that had been done had been over average – his hearing was alright, so why did the boy not react sometimes, why did he understand things only after being said the second or third time and why did he understand only half of what he was told?

"Have a look into your pencil-case and make sure that all the pencils are sharpened." Harry repeated, green eyes fixed on the boy. "You do know how Mrs. Manson reacts to unsharpened pencils. Eraser, pen, ruler – make sure that you really have everything." He hadn't taken his eyes off the boy and when the bloody brat nodded and then got off the chair to get his school bag, he took a breath of relief.

He watched the boy leaving the kitchen and turning into the corridor towards his room and then he turned and started to prepare Brian's lunch for school. He smeared two slices of toast with peanut butter and then added salami, Brian's favourite sausage while he wondered if the brat ever would eat anything else in school than peanut-butter-salami sandwiches. Shaking his head he put the two toast slices together, just the moment the boy slowly and on tiptoes came back to the kitchen, his school book balancing on his head.

Everything was there and everything was alright.

"It will be later today." Brian seriously said. "I'll visit Rickie. I've promised him to teach him reading music, it doesn't look too good for him and he'll fail the music class. Really, if it were English, or math, then I could understand, but music?"

"Just because music is your element, it doesn't mean that others are as good in the subject as are you." James smiled. "Maybe Rickie is better in English instead?" He asked, out in the blue.

"He is." Brian agreed. "Rickie writes essays – they are incredible and I don't know how he does it. I get a headache if I just _hear_ the word essay!"

"You see?" James asked, looking at him pointedly but then his gaze softened and Brian looked back at him questioningly.

Harry pointed at the kitchen chair Brian was sitting at, both front legs hanging in the air and quickly the boy tilted his chair back so that the two front legs of the chair went back to the floor with a soft "clack", watching him with a guilty look in his eyes and James inclined his head satisfied while he handed over Brian's lunch box, just the moment when Sam entered the kitchen with a soft "good morning".

"Good morning, Sam." Both answered, James and Brian, James finally taking his cup of coffee from the microwave and Brian slipping into his jacked. It was shortly before eight and Brian had to start for school. He took his school bag and just was about to storm out of the kitchen when Sam gripped the handle of his school bag to keep him from leaving so that in the end the boy nearly hung in the air.

A picture that caused James to chuckle out loud.

"Your lunch, Brian." Sam remembered his younger 'brother' who looked irritated for a moment but then grinned and nodded.

"Oh, thanks Sam." The boy answered, hastily took the lunchbox from the table and stuffed it into his school bag – and then he was gone.

James watched him with a shaking of his head.

The boy would forget his own head if it were not grown to his neck while he wondered about what kind of mischief the boy would get into today. What kind of trouble would the boy cause today? Very well, it wouldn't help to wrack his brain, tomorrow morning at the latest he would learn of it anyway and questioningly he looked at Sam.

"Hungry?" He asked, but Sam shook his head, pointing at the coffee pot instead with a softly asked "may I" and James lifted his eyebrow at the boy.

Sam was nineteen, damn. Nineteen and he lived with them since nearly a year, lived with them like living in a normal family, with all the small duties and responsibilities, but still he always asked for the things he wanted, never mind if it was a cup of coffee, a glass of coke, a sandwich or a handful of chips – whatever, implicitness, small things – small things one didn't have to ask for, but Sam did.

"Of course." James answered seriously.

Well, Sam was a shy boy and he just wanted to be well behaved, didn't want to take anything without permission, but damn, the boy was no guest here anymore, he lived here in this household and it really was unnerving sometimes if he asked for anything. Why shouldn't he get a cup of coffee? What reason for? But well – that was Sam and James had started to accept the boy the way he was – with his annoying habit to ask for anything he wanted.

Like Brian.

With Brian too, he'd had to learn to accept him the way he was, to overlook some things, like the occasional balancing of his school bag or other things on his head. As he'd had to learn to accept Terry the way he was.

Sam took a cup from the cupboard, poured some coffee and then turned on the radio. It was eight in the morning after all, and then he sat opposite Harry at the table.

"… serious weather warning.

Just now we received a warning for the Barren Ground and for Caribou.

Cold temperatures and north winds of fifty to sixty miles per hour will cause serious ice winds throughout the afternoon and late evening today. This is a warning that extreme ice winds will occur in these regions or are already present. It is advisable to pursue further news.

Foretold is a snowfall warning for:

Caribou, Ennadai, Dubawnt Lake and new: for Cambridge Bay.

During the afternoon and until the evening fifty to seventy inches of snow are expected.

This is a warning that heavy snow will occur in these regions, or already occurring. We recommend to pursue further news.

Cold arctic winds will move to the south over the Barren Ground throughout the afternoon and night and will, together with rapidly falling temperatures, create snow drifts and icy winds.

Travellers are advised to exercise the utmost caution if they travel to these regions today.

Please note the news from the weather station in Cambridge Bay for more details.

These were the weather reports …"

James turned off the radio with a dissatisfied sigh. Damn! Icy winds, snow fall, none of which were calming news. If only Severus was carefully. Automatically, he turned and reached for the radio.

"Severus?" He asked worried.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Since half an hour he had left Caribou behind already, but he was getting along rather well.

_'What will change soon'_, he thought grimly while watching the sky. He guessed three or four hours now and then he would get icy north winds. And most likely a lot of snow. James surely would laugh at him, but he was sure that he could already smell the snow.

He would have left Ennadai behind then too.

Once more he looked up at the dark sky, but then he shrugged his shoulders. Never mind, it wasn't the first time that he drove through a snowstorm and he knew that he wouldn't have a problem with that, but he also knew that …

"Severus?"

Exactly that!

He also knew that James had listened to the weather warning and that he already was walking a small path into the kitchen floor, smirking he reached for the mike.

"Yes?" He asked back.

"Severus? Are you listening to the radio? Did you hear the weather warning?" James' voice came from the radio, nearly stumbling over the words with haste

"No, but it isn't necessary either, seeing that you have listened." He answered, chuckling.

"Damn, Severus, stop those jokes!" James definitely sounded frustrated now. "They have predicted icy north winds and snow for Caribou, Ennadai, the Dubawnt Lake and for Cambridge Bay."

"Is that all?" Severus answered drily. "I could have predicted that very same too and without listening to the weather report. I only have to look into the sky. Merlin, Potter! As if it were the first time that we come across a snowstorm. We do have such a funny thing at least once a month, everyone of us."

"I know. I just want you to be careful!"

"I am always. And now stop worrying!"

"I will." James answered but Severus was sure that he heard a frustrated sigh at the other end of the connection.

"You're alright, otherwise?" James' voice asked.

"After I have started just three hours ago? Yes, I am."

"Alright, just be careful."

"I am always, you better have an eye on the boys."

"I have."

"Good, and if you are at it, have an eye on you too."

"Alright, till later."

Severus amusedly shook his head. He had known it. Would he have been the type of person to bet, and had he had someone to have a bet with, then at the latest after he had looked into the sky he would have had bet all his money on James calling him ten minutes past eight at the latest to give him the weather report – and he would have won the bet.

Well, he knew James Potter good enough to know that by now. How long did they know each other now? About four years? Yes, something like that and damn, he had come to West Hamleton as a mechanic – after he had done a lot of other things – like teaching and spying, just for example, and now he was sitting here, behind the wheels of a truck and manoeuvring a heavy goods vehicle across north Canada's ice roads.

Smirking he shook his head while he thought back, to the time when he had arrived here, when he had met James for the first time. James Potter, Harry Potter. Potter had done this job once, for a few years until he'd had this accident, until his friend had died in this accident, that had been before his time.

After that James just had screwed some old cars together, had opened a hooking service eventually. Not for the money or to have a real job, but rather to do _anything_ at all, while he otherwise just had been sitting at home, had hidden himself away out here, had driven himself into isolation. He had just broken off any contacts, broken down any bridges behind himself and he never again had welcomed any visitors, just like that.

The only who had kept an eye on James back then had been Mark, he guessed. Mark had just ignored James' wish for isolation and for being left alone, had visited James every now and then with one or another pretence and he had to admit that he was thankful for this. Once again he smirked while his thoughts started to drift …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**September, 1999**

"Remarkable, how idiotic some people are." Severus' incredible voice caused Mark and James to look up at the black haired man. "How utter idiotic, to drive across an icy ocean, with a truck no less! I really wonder what kind of idiots are doing such an utterly stupid thing!"

It was a report on CNN Severus was watching, "the north of Canada", his dark eyes becoming narrowed in disbelief and now he was switching the TV off, shaking his head over the idiocy of some people, and over such an insanity.

"How can anyone be so stupid to drive up to two hundred tons over mere ice – ice beneath which is absolutely nothing than the North Polar Ocean! It is insane! Who would be as stupid as to …"

Mark had started to laugh and Potter too had lifted an eyebrow in amusement while a small smile had appeared on his always so pale and serious face – what had been the reason for Severus to look at them and to stop in his rant, to look at Mark, then at Potter, at Mark and finally back to Potter again, seeing that it was the first time ever he had seen the other man smiling in amusement.

"What?" He asked, not understanding their amusement. It was stupidity after all.

Well, Mark didn't answer, just pointed at Potter, still laughing and slowly the older wizard understood.

"Never!" He said, his dark eyes unbelievingly on Potter, but Potter too didn't give him an answer, just smirked to himself. "No! Absolutely never!" Severus repeated, watching Mark with a questioning gaze but this one just nodded at him, smirking, and Severus' gaze went back to Potter again – and his face nearly darkened. Of course! It could be only a Potter, doing such a stupid thing, such an irresponsible thing, nor regarding other people around him but doing what he wanted and taking unnecessary risks just to satisfy his …

But then, had he not learned more than once now that this James Potter was not like the James Potter he knew from school? That this Potter was Harry Potter actually and not James Potter? That this Potter was only James Potter's son, not James Potter himself?

And Potter hadn't looked like being amused anymore then and the smile that had made his pale and thin, and always so serious face softer, it had vanished while he lowered his head. With a sigh the younger man got off his seat and took his coffee cup, left the living room and therefore indicating that – he didn't want to think of his past and he especially didn't want to speak about his past. The times during which he would have asked questions about what might or might not have happened in past times, they were long since past as well, he didn't wish to know anything of those past times anymore, he just wished to be left alone and to live in peace and freedom.

Mark and Severus watched him leaving, Severus with rather an astonished look and Mark with a rather resigned gaze, and the officer then turned back to Severus. A few seconds he was silent, and Severus didn't ask questions, allowed the man time, even if he feared the moment would pass during which Mark would be ready to tell something because – yes, he wanted to know more about Potter, about the person he was living together with, he wanted to know more, but he didn't want to press Mark too much.

A few moments later he knew that he had been right, because Mark started to speak by himself.

"It's long ago, but it's true. James has been driving this route – _exactly_ this route." Mark finally told, pointing at the now black TV. "Since his seventeenth year, since he had his driving licence. Four days a week and nearly 15000 miles with the truck over the ice and back, before he had this accident, before Isaac died. And damn, he'd been one of the smallest, but one of the boldest and one of the best riders that were out there anyway. Never again had there been a daredevil like him in one of the paddocks. Well …" He then added, shrugging his shoulders when he noticed Severus' disapproving look. "He's been young and reckless, but he's delivered his load on time, and without accidents, always."

Thoughtfully Mark looked towards the kitchen, the direction in which James had disappeared and once more he shook his head. "It's a shame that James doesn't do this job anymore. He's been living for this job, it's been his passion – James Potter and a two-hundred tons beneath his butt which he could push over the bare ice – that belonged together like bats and nocturnal insects."

"What happened?" Severus softly asked. "What did stop him from driving?"

Mark laughed for a moment, but then he looked over at Severus with serious eyes.

"After his accident back then … well, he wouldn't have been able to drive those trucks again and after he had been released eventually and came home again …" Mark shrugged his shoulders. "He had to get accustomed to life again, had to learn many things all over again, he had forgotten about everything back then after all." The policeman said, shaking his head. "However, he wasn't ready to get to know his friends again. He had hidden himself away here didn't welcome anyone, never left, never had accepted anyone near him again and at one point or another he hadn't even accepted a phone call anymore. I think, he always only had allowed me in because I always had a good reason to turn up in uniform and at one point or another I guess, he had gotten used to my visits."

"But he'd had to work again eventually." Severus frowned, shaking his head. "He had to make some money, such a house does cost a lot of money and he had to live of something – why hadn't he gone back to driving?"

"Well, he just hadn't been able to." Mark said, lowering his head to one side. "Look, well – everyone knew that he wouldn't be able driving anymore and not really because of the physical reasons only but mainly because of the mental reasons. James just _couldn't_ get out there again. He didn't have the nerve anymore to bring the truck 750 miles over the ice and to sit for hours behind the wheel, to concentrate, to expose himself to the powers of nature. And he just wasn't ready to meet anyone anymore, to talk anymore. He had tried, after he had been back from hospital, but this attempt had gone down the hill."

Mark shook his head and sighed while he himself remembered …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**January, 1999**

He knew that James would start working again this morning and he had taken the time to go up to Churchill. If he couldn't keep the blasted boy from sitting back behind the steering wheel of the trust, then at least he wanted to wish him some luck. He had long enough tried to speak some sense into the boy, had tried to tell him that he should wait, that it was too early.

James still wasn't over Isaac's death and he was far from being in the physical condition to sit behind the wheel of a two hundred ton vehicle and drive it more than six hundred miles across the ice of the arctic ocean to the interim storage.

He only could hope that James would see reason the moment he arrived the middle store, preferably before he started to drive any further up the north. Once he had left the interim storage towards the north, once he were up there in the absolute solitude of the ice wilderness, he would have no chance of turning around and he – Mark – he would have had no chance to simply get quick help to send up there either.

He would try to reach Big Bear on the radio and inform him about James' insanity, enlighten him about his condition and ask him to have an eye on the boy, or better two, if necessary to prevent him from continuing up north.

"You are really sure you wish to see it through, James?" He asked the moment James opened the door to his truck.

James just looked at him with his dark eyes and gave him a curt nod.

Of course he nodded, of course he _just_ nodded to be correct – because he hadn't spoken a word with anyone since the affair of the quarry, with absolutely no one.

"What will you do if something goes wrong on your way, James?" He asked in frustration. "If you get stuck, if anything happens, James, what do you do then? You wouldn't even be able to call someone for help on the radio. James, this is madness, what you are intending is utter madness and it also is utter madness that Churchill allows you out there, to let you drive in your state, which simply is irresponsible and I'd like to demolish Anderson's office for this!"

James looked at him for another moment, nearly frustrated himself and he looked as if he wanted to give contradiction, but then he pressed his lips together and shook his head.

He knew very well that he was stupid, and he also knew that he was too stupid to speak, to express himself verbally. And also that he was too stupid to remember anything – he didn't need Mark to remember _that_! But nothing would go wrong! He just had to do this, he just had to know if he was still able to do his job.

And with a nearly angry gaze at Mark he climbed up into the truck and slammed the door. He inclined his head for a short moment in way of farewell and then started the engine, set the truck in motion slowly, leaving Mark who watched him in frustration behind.

Well, so far he managed rather well, he at least had not forgotten how to drive and that was something, wasn't it?

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Do you have any idea what could happen out there, Anderson?" Mark asked, outraged. "Damn how could you have allowed him out there in the state he is!"

"Now listen to me, Mark! James came in here and wished to drive, why should I have talked it out of him?"

"Because it is irresponsible, Pete! What do you think the boy should do out there if he is in any trouble? How do you think will he manage to inform anyone and ask for help? Taking the mike and pushing a note through with the words 'I'm stuck, please send help'? Or to give away smoke signals? What were you thinking?"

Well, Mark was absolutely angry.

He could understand James, he _really_ could understand him, the boy only wanted to know if he still would be able doing his job after all, but he couldn't understand Anderson. How had he could allowed James to start?

"If Potter wants to drive, then I'll let him. I'll do a shit and start banning my drivers, not as long as they can drive. James can't remember anything, so what? He won't get lost out there as the ice road is straight and there isn't a run either – I mean, it is no highway after all! And he can't talk, so what? He has both his legs and both his arms and so he can accelerate and he can use the break he can use the gear and he can use the steering wheel. I don't see your problem, Mark."

"Do you have a brain for five cent in your head?" Mark asked. "James isn't ready yet. He is still too uncertain and he still has not back his entire strength. On the contrary. Did you look at him closely for once? What if something happens in this state of his and then he get's into a panic attack, he wouldn't even being able to ask for help on the radio! That was irresponsible of you and I swear, if anything happens to the boy out there, then I will have your sorry behind!"

"Is this meant to be a threat, Mark?"

"Absolutely no, Anderson. This was no threat, it was a promise and believe me, I'm not any idiot, I'm the police chief of West Hamleton and if I say that this was irresponsible, then it has been just that! And if I say that I will have your sorry behind if anything happens to James out there, then believe me, I _will_ have your sorry behind – in one of my cells!"

Angrily Mark left the office, slamming the door.

Of course … Anderson only was interested in money and as long as James was driving he was bringing money – and so Anderson didn't need to pay another driver, didn't need to pay anything in addition – that was all, there wasn't anything else in Anderson's opinion, nothing else mattered to Pete Anderson.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Mile for Mile he had fought his way through the white wilderness that was north Canada in the midst of winter and more than once since he'd left Churchill he'd had to stop to get his fingers off the steering wheel for just a moment and to press his aching back against the backrest, to close his eyes for just a moment.

While at the same time tiredness and frustration added to his aching back and his headache. Frustration and disappointment about himself. He had gathered information before he had started and none of the other drivers needed more than one pause on the route, if even that. The stops in Ennadai and Caribou were enough for them. He also knew that he was behind his schedule. He should be in Cambridge Bay at eight in the evening, half past eight at the latest – but he knew that he wouldn't even make it to ten.

And just as he had thought – it was half past ten when he finally reached Cambridge Bay and therefore the interim storage and again he sighed in frustration, hit his fist against the steering wheel. Angrily he climbed down the truck and then slammed the door of the truck behind him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"He's here." Big Bear growled.

For nearly two hours he had looked out of the window over and over again, waiting for James, his anxiety growing and reaching unknown heights. If this idiot wouldn't have appeared at eleven, then he would send someone to go looking for him. "I warn you, no stupid remarks. You all know that James has not yet recovered fully and you know what Mark said. He doesn't remember anything and so probably he doesn't remember us either. Furthermore – he can't speak anymore, whatever reason for, I have no idea. I'd like to wring his neck if it were up to me, driving here in his state! I expect all of you to act as normal as possible and you won't dare approaching him on it. I'll do that! I'm warning you, whoever is stupid enough to let go of any stupid comment – has seen his job, just so that we understand each other and this especially goes for you, Frank!"

The trucker called by with name wanted to give an angry reply, but Big Bear just raised his hand and stared at him for a few seconds almost cold eyes before he turned to the others. "Well, and now off with you, unloading."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Harry opened the cargo doors of his truck and then again he sighed in frustration, noticing – and not for the first time today – that maybe Mark had been right. It took him three attempts to release the lock and he was sure that this couldn't be normal, that he had managed opening it on the first try in the past. He had become weak. Uncoupling the second trailer to get at the loading platform, it had taken him more than ten minutes to do so and he had thought that it even had been longer than that.

Tiredly he finally climbed onto the loading platform and for a moment he ran his hand over his face before he started to sort out what had to be unloaded here. He had – just like the newcomers that normally did – taped notes with the inscription "Cambridge Bay" to anything that had to be unloaded here, and nevertheless he stood there for a moment and stared at the cartons, boxes and sacks helplessly.

"Hi, James." A thundering voice beside him announced someone's presence and startled he turned. Beside him a giant of a man had approached the truck and was climbing up the ramp. "Nice to see you in one piece, my dear friend." The giant boomed and came closer, extending his hands to pull him close into his arms for greeting, but instictively James drew back with a soft cry of fear and the other stopped abruptly, lowering his arms and with a nearly sad gaze in his eyes he nodded.

"It's alright, James." He then said. "Let's get inside, Mama has made you an extra portion of her chilli. I'll take this one with me now, it's the mail." The giant added, chuckling softly and he took one of the sacks and threw it onto the ramp.

James at the same time lifted his eyebrow for a moment, nearly looking disapprovingly. He perfectly understood what the other was trying to do and with a grim expression on his face the took another of the sacks that was meant for the camp here and heaved it over his shoulder.

The older trucker watched James for another moment and again a sad expression washed over his face, came into his eyes. Well, this would get harder than he had thought, as it seemed, James Potter still was as stubborn as … damn! He could see the tiredness in his face and he could see his hands trembling. His gaze fell onto James' bare wrists, the sleeve of the pullover having slipped up, seeing the barely healed scars that wound themselves completely around the small wrists and he had to turn away, had to fight for his self control to keep himself from hitting his fist against the wall of the truck. He didn't want to know how the rest of James' body looked. Fucking shit!

"Come on, James, it's late and you've been sitting behind the steering wheel for hours. Forget about the load and come in." He then said in a playfully joking tone of voice to hide his horror. "The boys here can unload this crap here."

James stopped and then eyed him with a gaze that clearly showed his disapproval again – causing the giant to laugh for real now.

"Nope, boy, don't you look at me like this, not with _this_ look, it won't work with _me_. I have my boys for just such things and they haven't done much work today so far – and no, it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you and what had happened, we have handled such situations just the same when it had gotten later with any of the drivers in the past. So shut up and get your backside into the barrack."

Without another word he took the sack from James' hand, threw both of them over his shoulder and then he pushed the boy's backpack into his hands and shoved him with his other hand over to the loading dock.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

For a moment James winced startled when he felt the hand of the other man on his shoulder and a nearly guilty look crossed his face before he tried to get himself back under control and to get over to the barrack in front of them.

The giant threw open the door to the building and carelessly threw the sacks into the office, he then led James into the large common room and to one of the empty tables in a corner in the back of the shed.

"Sit down James, I'll get you a cup of coffee and something to eat." He then said with a thunderous voice and James first looked around unsurely, looked into the faces of the other truckers that every now and then threw unsure gazes at him while halting in their conversations.

Just what he needed right now, a pack of strange people that stared at him and with a frustrated sigh he lowered his gaze.

"Well, James." The giant came back to the table and placed a cup of coffee in front of James, sat down opposite him. another trucker came over and wanted to sit down with them but the giant looked at him seriously.

"Not now, Worry. I would like to talk with James alone first." He said.

Worry looked at James for a moment and then at the giant before he nodded.

"Ok, Big Bear. 'Till later, James." He then said.

Big Bear nodded for a moment, watching Worry leaving and sitting down with the others and then he turned back to James.

"How are you, boy?" He then asked and after a split second James lowered his gaze and nodded.

"I take it that this is meant to be translated with _'I'm well'_, isn't it?" Big Bear asked, shaking his head and again James nodded while shrugging his shoulder.

"Sure, it's absolutely clear that you're well, you look as if you're coming just from holiday." Big Bear answered ironically while he still shook his head. James Potter had not changed in any way, at least when it came to his stubbornness. Nearly snorting he leaned his lower arms onto the table and looked at James intently. "Alright, and now get out this block of yours and tell me how your ride has been, boy, You didn't have any troubles out there, have you?"

James gulped for a moment heavily and then put the cup of coffee he just a moment ago had taken into his hands to take a sip back onto the table, a startled and horrified expression on his face.

"What did you think, James? That we won't know, or that we maybe simply overplay things just like this? We're friends, James Potter, and therefore I would like to handle this with you the way we always have handled things. Nothing is kept hidden here. I know that you do not remember anything and I also know that you at the present time – whatever reason for – can't speak. And I am not only your friend here, but I am your boss as long as you are here also. So, James, even if I know that you do not like it – just get out your block and tell me of your ride here."

For a few more seconds James just sat there, watching Big Bear unsurely before he finally pressed his teeth together and lowered his gaze anew. He reached for his backpack and with trembling fingers he pulled out the small block he was carrying with him in one of the side pockets since a few weeks now, even if he rarely needed the bloody thing. This here, this all was going wrong. He rather had hoped that after unloading the truck he could slip into his bunk and go to sleep to silently and unnoticed continue on to north the next morning. Damn! He hadn't imagined the situation like this and he had the feeling that he was about to make a fool of himself.

Sighing he took out his biro.

"everything was alright on the road" he wrote and slipped the block over to Big Bear, still feeling entirely frustrated.

Big Bear lifted his eyebrow, but he read what James had written down.

"What kept you then, James?" He then asked.

"nothing, just took too many rests" was the answer and Big Bear already could read it upside down. That at least seemed to get easier than he had feared.

"And what's the plan for tomorrow, my friend? Today is has been 640 miles only, James, tomorrow you will have 780 miles and through a much more difficult terrain than today."

"I'll just start earlier tonight" Big Bear read and he immediately waved it off.

"Not a chance, boy." He answered. "You will stick to your eight hour break, damn, James! How exactly do you think all of that will work out?"

This time James didn't write an answer but the frustration in his face had been risen and Big Bear could clearly see it.

"Now you will listen to me very well, boy." He finally said. "I just have to look at you to know that you are not ready yet. How long are you released from hospital even? Just a weak, am I not right?"

James just nodded and Big Bear softly huffed. "A week. One bloody week, James. Damn! Just look at yourself. You've been gone for more than two months and the Lord only knows what those bloody Hudsons have done with you during all this time. Isaac is dead and you yourself have been more dead than alive. I have been to the hospital after they have taken you there, James, I have seen you and honestly, I still feel ill by just thinking back of it."

Without a warning he took James' hand and rolled up the sleeve of his pullover, ignoring the boy's startled and scared gasp, uncovering the small wrist with the scars and he had to force himself to look at it. He didn't want to startle James, he didn't want to frighten him, but he wanted to make it absolutely clear that he would not allow him to go on to the north.

"These scars here area not even healed yet, boy, and by no stretch of the imagination can you tell me that your writs are not hurting. I would not believe this." He said with a soft but firm voice, rolling up the sleeve of the pullover further and exposing a bony lower arm.

"And seeing this here, I really do not have to guess even to come to the conclusion that you have a long way ahead in reaching your previous body weight that has been too little to begin with anyway. Not to mention that you barely are able to fight me. In the past you would have managed wrestling yourself out of my grip."

Releasing finally the thin wrist, after the boy had tried to fight his grip, he took a deep breath and James gripped his sleeve immediately with both his hands, as if he would grasp for a safety line, the boy barely able to keep from crying with frustration.

"I just have to look into your face James, to know why you needed more breaks than normally. You are tired and you are exhausted. This trip up here, it has drained you, damn, James! When Mark called me this morning and told me that you are as idiotic as to sit behind the wheel of a heavy truck to drive here, in your state – I first thought that Mark had made a joke. But no, he hadn't! You're really sitting here! And to be honest – I don't even have the slightest clue _how_ you have made it this far. You better do not forget, I don't just lead this camp, I drive those heavy loads myself. I do know what it means. I do know that one needs every bit of strength, of energy and of nerves one can muster, especially on this route here."

Still James didn't give an answer, didn't even look at him but stared at his cup he still was holding in front of him and frustrated himself Big Bear sighed and ran his hand over his face. He could understand James, the boy just wanted to re-tie his life somehow, anywhere, wanted to get back to his feet and wanted his life back to normal, but not like this, because it wouldn't be responsible.

"Listen to me, James. I'm sorry. I neither wanted to startle you nor was it my intention to hurt you, but I want – I _need_ you to understand." He then said. "I simply can't allow you to go on north, James. Come back when you're ready, when you're really recovered, physically. For anything else we can find a solution, may it be your speaking or may it be your memory. We will find a solution, but I wish that you recover fully first. And then you'll be on the team without further ado, you have my word on this. You're one of my best drivers, but not in this state, I need you healthy, do you understand this?"

Big Bear gazed into James' green eyes searchingly when the younger and much smaller man lifted his head to look at him, but the frustration that nearly boarded on desperation caused him to grit his own teeth in frustration for a moment, but finally James nodded and Big Bear took a deep breath of relief.

"Good." He then said. "And now tell me how you're really doing."

Again James hesitated for a moment, but then he took the block and wrote "dunno, tired" and Big bear nearly huffed.

"No wonder." He answered, laughing softly. "It would have been a miracle if it had been differently. Wait here, James. I'll get your food before it's cold again and you'll eat. Then you'll go to bed and tomorrow you'll go back south together with me. That's suits me anyway. I'll have to take the trip to Churchill anyways this week as I have to get my new truck from the flagship store – so I can do this tomorrow. I'll take your truck down to the south and so I won't need to take Bob with me. I can't take two vehicles this way after all. and besides, your truck is down there where it belongs to this way – where you by the way belong to just as well."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**September, 1999**

Shaking his head Mark stood and went to the wall unit, determinedly reached out for a photo that was tucked in between two books and slowly pulled it forth. Thoughtfully he watched it for some time before he turned back to Severus.

"For some months James hadn't spoken at all." He then said. "No answer to any questions, no explanations, no questions, no pleas, nothing. Nothing he had to tell anyone, absolutely nothing, no spoken words. At the best – and really at the best, there might have been a nod or a shake of his head, but normally not even this, normally I only got a disapproving lifted eyebrow as an answer to all my questions or statements, disapproving, because I dared to disturbed his peace."

Sighing he cast a last glance at the picture in his hands before he plugged it back between the two books where he had taken it from.

"He didn't want to. That was all. Even if – it isn't correct entirely. I mean, he could have been able to speak, physically at least, and nevertheless he couldn't. Mentally. He wasn't able to. But there was more, because in the beginning, he didn't even want being able to. And I – I have been the source of irritation, the disturbing factor in this thing. He didn't want or wasn't able to speak, but I – well, I over and over again have tried to force him to speak, simply with my presence and simply with my stubborn talking to him and asking him questions, conversing with him – and he knew this, and it annoyed him to no end. And so he always just lifted this disapproving eyebrow at me. He would have liked it the best if I had been gone like anyone else and he hadn't had to deal with anyone ever again. And do you know what was the really bad thing?"

Mark had stepped back to the living room table, sat down back into the armchair he had been sitting in before and he intensely looked at Severus who had been following Mark with his dark eyes. He hadn't gotten up, hadn't interrupted him, but had simply watched him, listened to him and had waited patiently.

"I have known that – would James be alone out here for the remainder of his life, he _really_ wouldn't mind." Mark then answered his own question. "He didn't just _want_ no other people around, he also wanted no friends around either, he wanted no one. And the funny thing was, he wouldn't have to get used to it either, he's always been a lone wolf. He'd had Isaac, and _him_, he had needed. But after Isaac's death … someone else he never would have tolerated and someone else he wouldn't have needed either. It had been Isaac whom he would have needed. But he wasn't there anymore and he wouldn't be there ever again either. And that has been what James never really has dealt with, not even to the present day. However, he just hadn't been able to take his old life back and live it. Solitude and oblivion was all that was left and all what he wanted."

Mark reached the package of cigarettes from which he had pulled out a cigarette towards Severus, but this one declined with a thanks and Mark looked up with a frown on his face for a moment.

"Ah, sorry. You're not smoking." He murmured and then threw the package onto the table in front of him, lightened the cigarette. "Neither do I normally, but right now – I like to. But never mind, it's just odd, somehow, a non-smoker living with James. I'll have to get used to it yet. However – we've discussed the house.

Well, James and Isaac they had bought this house here together back then. They had scraped together their entire money, all they had saved throughout the years, and so the house has been paid. I guess that Isaac back then had overtaken the bigger parts of the costs, seeing that he'd had inherited a lot of money from his father. But well – during the following years the both of them had scraped together some money again, the drivers made good money after all and James and Isaac, they hadn't needed much. How many the both of them had in the end, I don't know, but I'm sure that a lot of money had come together and Isaac had – I guess rather soon after he had moved in with James – made a testament. I'm not entirely sure why, but it had been dated to July 1997.

I'm not sure if James has touched this money ever. The way I know him it's still laying and resting on a saving book, untouched. But alone the money that had been left from James himself, I guess it has been enough so that he could take a timeout."

"And why has no one ever kicked his ass?" Severus asked, again a hint of disapproval sounding in his voice while he looked at Mark.

"I think it was alright the way it went, Severus." Mark answered, watching Severus intently again with his words. "James has lost a person that has been very important to him, the most important person in his life, the one the only person that has been more important to him than his own life had been actually. He's los his memories, practically his entire life. He has needed time, time to mourn, time to understand what had happened, time to find himself anew and time to get along with himself and the new situation he suddenly found himself in. Of course I could have pushed him, yes, but I didn't think it wise and I still think that it was alright the way it went. Just look, alone the fact that James has been ready to form a friendship with you to begin with – it wouldn't have been possible back then, shortly after his accident. He just needed time, nothing more, but nothing less either and this time, I have given – and today …"

Again his gaze wandered into the direction of the kitchen, into the direction in which James had left, thoughtfully. "Today I see that it's been alright. Maybe he still is – well, a bit foolish and idiotic, but somehow he's always been like that after all. And maybe he still is not healed here in his head and here in his heart either, not entirely, but he has managed a lot, in regards to himself, I mean."

Slowly and thoughtfully Severus nodded.

Yes, most likely Mark was right. Sometimes you just reached a point where you needed a timeout. He himself had been at this point not so long ago.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_Speed ticket fine._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:  
**

at the present time it looks like this:

506 Points - Slytherin

464 Points - Gryffindor

419 Points - Ravenclaw

187 Points - Hufflepuff


	13. speed ticket fine

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

At first - I do wish you a Happy Christmas and a few very happy holidays ... alright, I am sure that you won't like it, but I guess I'll take the number 15 ... I've been through my stories while wondering which one to continue next with and I've noticed that it's rather chaotically ... I'll have to go and sort through them a bit and finally make decisions which ones to finally finish before going on with another one for a few chapters only so I'll do this story and "by the end of the day" until chapter 15 and then I'll put them to rest before I end those I have an end for ... I do promise to bring my NaNo story online and to update - and finish - one of my other stories as soon as possible – please let me know which one you would like being continued next … I do thank all of your for reviewing this story, as few as you are still - your reviews are very much appreciated

**To Catlady and any other friends of cats** – please, don't skin me for one or another sentence _Mark_ is thinking in this chapter and that is not so friendly concerning cats, it's Mark's opinion, not mine. And don't be too harsh with Mark either, he's just had a bad day, that's all …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**Here and now**

**Chapter thirteen **

**Speed ticket fine**

**December 2003**

Lost in thoughts Severus lifted his eyebrow when he remembered this conversation with Mark while he slowly steered the truck into the direction of north. They'd had this conversation just a few weeks after he had moved in with James Potter and he had thought over the officer's words even long after Mark had been gone back then – and he had come to the decision that he would remember those words – to just allow James time.

_"I only can warn you, Mr. Snape, there could be times in which I'm not easy to handle. I'm strange. That's at least what people say."_

Yes, Potter really hadn't been too easy to handle, back then. He still wasn't, even today, but today – well, today he had gotten used to James' strange – well, habits and unilateralism. Somehow some of those strange habits even had become very dear to him, Severus, as strange as it was because he had never before allowed anyone's habits to become close to him, except for Joshua's habits maybe, and well – he surely would miss them would the younger wizard lose them suddenly.

Of course James had changed during the past years.

In the beginning … when he had moved in with Potter, the younger man had withdrawn himself. He either had been sitting in the living room beside the fire or on the veranda, thoughtfully staring ahead. Or he had screwed on some old cars in the yard, had barely spoken a word with Severus. They rather had lived _beside_ each other than together.

And only slowly, bit by bit had the younger man come out of his shell, had allowed him, Severus, into his life inch by inch, had then started bit by bit to partake on his, Severus' life as well. Of course back then the first quarrels had started because he, Severus, often hadn't been able to understand Potter's reaction, had often been unable to follow his reasoning.

Today he was able to. He had learned that sometimes James just couldn't handle things or situations differently than the way he did, he had learned that James needed a lot of time for any changes, more time than any other person, that James neither had the patience nor the control to handle some situations logically and calmly and that there was something in his inner core that always seemed to push him.

In the beginning he often had accused James of not even trying, but with time he had learned that the boy really fought to control himself, to pull that what seemed important out of the mess that was his head and then to concentrate onto just this – he just didn't manage most of the times.

This first conversation with Mark – he had never been a conversional man, had never given much for the opinion of others, but he had been sure that it had been important anyway, and there had been other conversations that had followed and each of them had helped him to understand James better, had showed him that Mark really was a friend, not just a good fellow but a friend who thought it important that James was alright, who was happy for the friendship that was forming between James and him, Severus, without trying to get between because of jealousy.

Once more he remembered the picture of the young man, a young man that had been a boy still, sitting on the veranda, motionless, deeply lost in thoughts. How he had flinched startled when he had approached him, and once more he could feel the fear that had radiated from the still form, could see once more the hands of the young man that gripped the armrests of the armchair forcefully until he had regained some of his self control, had relaxed a bit.

The figure that slowly and with bent shoulders, with a pale, strained face had turned towards him, the thin arms and hands that had trembled slightly but constantly and the green eyes in which he seen nothing than fear and pain for a moment until again the boy had had himself back under control.

Yes. Softly he laughed to himself. Potter really hadn't been too well back then and there had been a lot of situations during which Severus had had no clue of what was wrong now or of what had to be done now.

But slowly there was another picture forming in his head, a different picture of James, James the way he was now, not bent, but – nearly at least – straight, not desperate but full of hope and trust. Yes, James really had changed during the past years. He had become calmer, more balanced, composed, was able to relax, in most situations at least, to control himself and to trust other people – to trust _him_.

Of course James still had his obsessions, had his ticks still, and maybe _inside,_ James still was as restless and as strained as he had been back then, but today he was able to take a break and to calm down and therefore to control himself. But most of all – James too had learned.

He had learned that his habits and ticks had nothing to do with stupidity and that they were nothing bad, he had learned to take them the way they came, that they were simply a part of him and therefore he had become more sure of himself and calmer. Less accidents happened than in the past and for his forgetfulness Severus had brought him a pin board – well, more than one, actually – and today James was able to even use them, what hadn't been too easy in the beginning. Back then he even had needed to learn how to use them. And well, he could sit down onto the sofa and stay there, was able to leave the world be. He wasn't as hectic as he had been, and surely not as explosive and short tempered as he had been back then either.

Yes, the boy had learned to take all his habits and all his ticks as a part of him, a part that was not bad, that did not speak of stupidity. If he now just learned that his magic was part of him too, that it was not bad and that it did not speak of freakishness. But the important part was – the boy had learned.

Just two years ago …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**July 2001**

The police car was standing behind the bushes and Potter couldn't see it when he drove down the road with nearly hundred miles per hour.

"I would go slower, Potter. Here's a speed limit of eighty miles per hour." Severus said, watching the boy with his eyebrow lifted.

The brat had recovered from the fight with Clark Hudson three days ago remarkably soon, at least physically. But mentally, he wasn't so sure about that. Not really, he guessed. Somehow his entire unsureness and his tensions, his impatience and his fears, they all had gone worse again and somehow he even seemed to stumble over his own feet while anything he did, he did hectically, chaotically and uncontrolled. Just to stop mid-movement sometimes, to stand there motionless, like cut from the twines that had held him, his head lowered to one side thoughtfully, while he tried to remember what it had been he had been about to do, in vain – he got restless as a result of not being able to remember things he had forgotten a moment ago while he at the same time tried to calm himself without managing.

He neither seemed able to control himself nor to concentrate and sometimes he really didn't seem to know where he was, _when_ or _how_ he was, even if he, Severus, didn't understand how such a thing even was possible, and he seemed to be completely disorientated – before he got into a panic. Really, Longbottom had been concentration in perfection and the most graceful boy compared to Potter.

The boy threw a hasty – and an angry – glance back at him, lifted his own eyebrow, but he didn't take his foot from the accelerator, on the contrary, for a moment he even semed to speed up – but even if he would have deduced his speed right now, it would have been already too late. He heard the siren even before he looked into the rear view mirror, saw the patrol car behind that came closer with flashing blue lights and softly cursing Potter steered the Voyager to the side of the road, stopped the car while he angrily hit his fist onto the steering wheel.

"I told you to go slower." Severus said smirking, earning another glare.

The patrol car stopped behind the Voyager and a young police officer got off the car and approached the van – and Potter opened the driver's window.

"Good morning, mister –" The officer greeted when he reached the van.

Potter only inclined his head for a greeting while Severus bent forwards a bit to look around the younger man's form.

"Good morning, officer." He answered calmly, still nearly smirking, being rather amused at the situation.

"Your ID card please, your driving licence and the car documents please." The young man in uniform demanded, unimpressed and Potter reached up and pulled down the sun visor, forcefully, catching the demanded papers that fell down and he frowned, nearly shaking his head at yet another strange habit of Potter's while the boy reached the papers through the window for the officer to take. Those papers surely didn't belong there! Well, the officer took them and went back to the patrol car, most likely to check them, and Potter opened the door, left the van and leaned with his back against the car, hitting his head against the black metal behind.

Slowly Severus approached the younger man, reaching him the package of cigarettes and after a few seconds during which Potter watched him, perplexed, apparently wondering what he, Severus, was doing here, he nodded in thanks, took the package and took a cigarette, lightening it and then taking a drag, inhaling it deeply.

"Do not worry yourself overly, you just will get a ticket." He said, calmly, and Potter nodded, sighing. He took another drag which he again inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, just the moment the young police officer came back with his papers. Potter took them and threw them onto the driving seat.

His anger wasn't directed at the police officer but at himself – but well, he _was_ angry.

"You do know what speed is allowed here, Mr. … Potter?" The officer asked and James nodded his confirmation. Of course he knew it, he had seen the signs after all and Severus had told him too.

"And you know the speed you have been driving?" The police officer then asked and James nodded again, impatiently this time. Of course he knew the speed he'd been driving with, he'd had the speedometer in front of his nose after all and he wasn't blind!

"So you know that you've been driving too fast?" The street warden asked and James blinked at the man stupidly for a moment, perplexed shaking his head.

What a stupid question!

Of course he knew that he'd been too fast. Did this idiot cop think he was dense somehow? If he knew the speed limit and if he knew the speed he'd been driving _actually_, then of course he knew that he indeed had been driving too fast, he was able to count two and three together after all!

"Does this idiot think I'm dense?" He growled, angrily but softly enough so that the other didn't hear – or at least didn't understand him and the police officer looked at him, questioningly.

"I beg your pardon?" The man now asked.

"He just said that he knew it." Severus said while placing his hand on Potter's shoulder, trying to calm him down. _He_ had very well understood what the idiot boy really had been saying, even if he had been standing _behind_ him, and he was trying to keep him from doing something rush and idiocy. Really, sometimes he was so sure that the idiot boy would have been in Gryffindor, had he been attending Hogwarts.

"That is not what I've been saying!" Potter turned towards him, angrily brushing his hand off his shoulder and his green eyes blazed angrily and daringly – so much for trying and saving the situation.

Well, _James_ felt as if Severus had betrayed him and this feeling just hurt, made him even angrier. For a short moment he stared angrily at Severus who stood there, calmly, but then he turned towards the policeman.

"I said: 'does this idiot think I'm dense?'!" He answered and he didn't care that he could get into a lot of trouble.

The young man heard the words, gazed at Potter for a second, but then the anger was visible on his face too.

"It would be advisable if you chose your words a bit more wisely, Mr. Potter." He calmly said – and Potter shook his head.

"These words in this situation are very perfectly appropriate." He said and Severus inwardly groaned. "If I know the speed limit here and if I also know the speed I've been actually driving, then surely I also know that I have been driving too fast. And we are in a free land in which I can say what I want. Do you have any problem with that?" He then asked, watching the officer now daringly.

"I suggest you're silent now." The young officer said.

Well, Severus' warning from three days ago, to be a bit more careful, it went unheeded and James didn't hear the unsureness that nearly bordered on fear in the voice of the young man, didn't realize that the situation might be quite get dangerous and he took a step towards the officer, watching him now clearly challengingly.

"Or what?" He asked. He was ready to step into an open confrontation, was unable to control his anger any longer. He wouldn't allow anyone to silence him, not even a police officer, not anymore!

When the young man took a step towards him, the young officer felt the unsureness rising to unknown highs and automatically his hand went to his side where he carried his weapon.

Severus saw the movement and he took Potter's arm, trying to pull him back.

"Calm down, Potter." He softly said, trying to imagine what end this could take – well, them landing themselves in a prison cell in the best case, or Potter ending up with a bullet in his head in the worst case. "Just let it be."

But of course the idiot _Gryffindor_ couldn't do the reasonable thing for once but again brushed off his hand when he took his arm, most likely not even hearing his words, not realizing them and most likely he just felt misunderstood, got even angrier.

Without thinking James took another step towards the officer. He wasn't an idiot and he wasn't a small child either that had to be taught what to say and what not, nor was he a criminal and he didn't want to be treated like a criminal!

The officer on the other hand misunderstood the young man's reasoning and he drew his weapon, carefully taking half a step backwards himself while he levelled the weapon with both hands at the idiot boy's head. Damn! This guy had to be insane somehow and he was alone here!

Nervously he looked at the older of the two.

This one seemed to stay calmer, seemed to try and get Potter to see reason, but Potter himself worried him. He really seemed to be off his trolley! Damn! He didn't want to use his weapon! He never had used his weapon, never except for the shooting stand!

But on the other hand he didn't wish to be shot by a luniac himself!

Yet, he hadn't seen Potter carrying a weapon to begin with.

For a moment the beginning of fear run down James' spine, but he ignored it. He knew well that the other just had to pull the trigger and then he'd be a dead man, but right now, in this particular moment – he didn't care.

Severus' heart seemed to stop for a few seconds, but then he had himself back under control, stepped beside Potter and again took his arm, more firmly this time while at the same moment he prepared himself for using wandless magic. Blast his decision to live amongst muggles! He should have taken Potter over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him back to the wizarding world where he belonged to, for Merlin's sake!

"Just stop this, Potter!" He hissed not softly this time but definitely giving a command, still calmly, but clearly angrily and there was no mistake that he intended on ending this here and now. "Right now! You will stop this senseless and typical Gryffindor behaviour and see reason!"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Mark leaned forwards in his patrol car to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray of the car.

He hadn't smoked as much during the past ten years as he had during the past three months, even if Severus had kept James calm and reasonable since the older man was living with Potter. Honestly, he didn't have to worry about the young man so much anymore since Severus was here and he was glad for that. But damn, he'd be glad when he'd be at home tonight finally. The day had started so damn shitty, had dragged on so damn shitty and he feared that it would end just as shitty as it had started.

At first he'd gotten a call from Mrs. Adams, just at nine this morning.

Mrs. Adams was a, well, an older lady, if you could say so concerning a 91 years old lady, and she was the widow of General Adams. THE General Adams, the General Adams whose father in life had fought on Mead's side in the American civil war, the union troops acting upon his plans of action. THE General Adams that had stepped into his father's shoes and had fought in several other wars – just as successfully as General Adams Senior had, mind you.

However, the widow Adams, she saw – or heard – everywhere one or another treachery, cheating or manslaughter. And today there had been assassination on the school building.

He'd been driving to the widow Adams, had taken her evidence, and he had promised her to take care of the matter, had praised her for her alertness and her sense of duty.

Of course he had looked at the school. He had gotten a hint about an assassination on the school and never mind if he believed the hint or not – he had to take care of it.

But of course it had been waste time. A few kids had played with fire during their break and accidentally set the trash can alight. The teachers had been able to put the fire out and not even the fire department had to be called.

How Mrs. Adams however had gotten wind of that, it was a riddle to him as the old lady was living at the other end of the town about half a mile away from the school, and no shop, coffee or office had opened before nine which the old lady could have been visiting. But well – that was the old widow Adams.

Well, and after that he had picked up Edgar at Norman's garage, totally drunk, trying – and in vain – to get some more drinks. Of course, Norman had a gas station beside his garage and of course he sold drinks there, but he was no one who sold the alcohol to everyone just to make his money and he had told Edgar that he'd had enough already, that he wouldn't get more alcohol from him.

Well, Edgar hadn't been so confirm with that, not really.

He wasn't the type of man who got drunk senselessly, but today he'd done so, just like yesterday and just like the day before yesterday, just like since two weeks actually.

Damn! He'd picked Edgar up and had put him into the drunk tank but he felt like shit while doing so. He knew the red haired young mechanic for so long now, since he'd been a child and he knew that he wasn't alcohol addicted. He also knew that Edgar wasn't really violent or a rowdy nor was he in any way dangerous. But he … damn, since Lissy had died two weeks ago he just didn't _know_ Edgar anymore and he didn't know what to do with him.

He could understand him, really, but that didn't change the fact that he stood helpless in the face of his friend's troubles and that really grated on his balls. Damn! It just made him angry, angry at himself, angry at Edgar, angry at the situation, angry at Lissy even, angry at anything and anyone.

And then Charley's cat had gone lost in a tree in the garden. Damn! In a tree of all things! Why not in a hole in the cellar? Or beneath anything the damn brute didn't come forth from anymore and had to be picked up, for all he cared. But not in a tree, fucking hell!

He was not the climbing type who climbed trees!

He had no heads for heights! And he was no hero when it came to climbing trees!

But one way or another he had fought his way up there – very much to the amusement of the audience most likely, even though no one had laughed. Most likely his performance had been anything but funny, had been rather a sad thing, but well, the outcome had been the same, he'd been sitting in the tree, getting scratched by the damn fucking cat when he tried to grab her and in the end the blasted filthy beast just jumped down the tree, just like this, into Charley's arms and he had been sitting up there, trying to get down one way or another without _falling_ down.

And just now – yes, he had managed climbing down that bloody tree, or he wouldn't sit here in his car on his way back to the police station while doubting the justice of this day – well, just now he in all seriousness and believe it or not had taken little Christine from Rodger's car – from the driver's seat.

How the little girl had even managed reaching the gas pedal, that was a riddle to him, not to mention turning the ignition and he better didn't ask how the child had gotten hold of the car key in the first place. Christine was just four after all, but nevertheless she actually had managed driving from the front yard, she even had managed the turn onto the Main Road and just about two hundred meters down the road she ran into a tree with her father's Ford.

Well, how that bloody child had gotten the key's into her hands and why for heaven's sake people were unable using the parking break while parking the car – AND how the child could get into that shit-heap without supervision from any adult was another riddle to him! A child that age should be under supervision and a car was no playground for a child but a …

What the fuck …

That – surely he had not seen correctly!

That was impossible …

For a moment he didn't believe his eyes, thought that his mind was playing a bad trick on him and Mark leaned forwards to see better, but even before he had passed the scene and then looked into the rear view mirror he realized that he indeed had seen correctly, that it was reality what he had seen.

He jammed the break and hastily turned the car, driving back quickly and with a cloud of dust he steered the patrol car onto the roadside, stopped beside James' van and hastily left the car. He didn't even spend time to close the door but just left it open and hurried over to the three people.

"Benson!" He called out, loudly, and the young officer who had taken a deep breath of relief when he'd seen Mark's patrol car, cast a quick glance out of the corner of his eyes at his boss without lowering his weapon.

Severus too exhaled with relief when Mark left his car, relaxed a bit but James still didn't seem to notice him and he still stood in front of the young police officer in his challenging pose, still watching the man angrily.

"Take down the weapon, Benson! Right now!" Mark ordered when he had reached the three and at the same time Severus took the chance to tighten the grip he had on Potter's arm, trying to get the younger – and definitely Gryffindor – man a few steps away and this time – maybe because he finally had seen Mark or maybe because he had sensed that the stress level on the entire situation had gotten down a notch or two and he himself could therefore relax a bit, Severus didn't know why and he didn't care either, but this time Potter allowed him to lead him a few steps aside.

Well, and the typical Potter-thing started – as quickly as his anger had risen, just as quickly it was gone now and Potter looked over at him, Severus, perplexed, then at the young officer, and when his gaze finally fell onto Mark, his attention being led to the police officer, he even smiled, nearly happily. Severus on the other hand took a deep breath before releasing it with relief at the realization that Potter was calm again.

"What happened?" Mark asked while he stepped between James and his inferior, his piercing eyes looking at the serious face of the younger officer and then at James who looked at him openly, nearly smiling, as if nothing had happened and surely not a loaded weapon that had been aimed at his head.

"This damn, crackbrained idiot …" The young officer started and his sharp voice still trembled with nerves, his own emotional strain causing him to use words he wouldn't have used under normal circumstances – and immediately James' attention was drawn back at the idiot with the quick weapon and he tried to take a step towards the officer while he at the same time cast a nearly begging gaze towards Mark, but Severus still had his hand on his arm, again increasing his hold. He tried to free himself, but again, like so often, he had to realize that he had no chance against Severus' stronger hand.

"Benson!" Mark warned, his gaze seriously at the younger officer.

"He has insulted and threatened me!" Benson angrily tried to defend himself and Mark cast a questioning gaze at Severus who barely visibly shook his head, still having a tight grip on James' arm.

Of course Potter had – to some level at least – insulted Benson with his first comment, and of course Potter had – again to some level – threatened Benson with taking a step towards the young officer, at least he could understand that the young man in his nervousness interpreted Potter's actions like this, but he also could understand Potter's point of view, added to his fears and his ridiculous beliefs of – _'better attacking before getting attacked'_ – no, in Potter's eyes he had just told the officer what he had thought and in Potter's eyes he had not threatened the officer, what had been the reason as to why he had not cared about Benson holding a loaded weapon in his face – this stupid, idiot boy had been ready to die for his beliefs if necessary!

James on the other hand couldn't understand the situation.

That just wasn't true, damn! It was a lie! He hadn't done this and his above-average sense of justice came forth right now, like so often, and he simply felt himself being treated unfairly. He just had told that idiot what he had thought! And he just had stood opposite the other, he hadn't threatened anyone and he wouldn't allow this Benson to tell lies about him!

Utterly frustrated he gazed over at Severus, nearly begging. He could feel himself starting to tremble under the older man's calm and serious dark eyes and upset as he was he stumbled back, would have lost his footing if Severus had not held his arm still.

Mark's own tension just left slowly. He knew too well what could happen out of such a situation, but James didn't seem to realize the danger he still was in. The expression on the boy's face was pure frustration and Mark knew – there wasn't much needed to get the situation out of hands again.

He nodded towards Severus and then towards the van which weight James had increased from two tons to more than four so that he could use the van as a towing truck, motioning Severus to get the boy out of the way and back to the van while Severus at the same time asked him with his dark eyes to trust James' words and he nodded, watching the older man leading James away.

"Your weapon, Benson." He asked of the younger officer and after a second of hesitation the young man reached his revolver over at him. Benson took the weapon, knowing that it was important because James was watching them, his eyes on Benson for a few seconds longer before he inclined his head. Benson would have to learn out of this situation anyway, namely to keep a clear head and to stay calm, to not act out of his fears.

"Just stay here with the car." He gently said before turning towards James and Severus.

"I didn't threaten him!" James desperately called out even before he had reached them.

"I know that you haven't, James." He answered. "Just calm down, it's alright. Benson is a young officer still and it's his first day here. He doesn't know you and he just _felt_ threatened. You cannot deny that you can be really short-tempered sometimes, James."

"And there people said I were short tempered." Severus murmured and he gazed at the dark eyed man for a moment, frowning. So far he only had known that man to be a very calm and pleasant fellow. A bit sarcastic and always telling his mind, more playing than being the dark guy, but surely not short tempered.

"You just have startled Benson and he has lost his nerves, has overreacted. That's all." He said.

James gazed at Severus, trying to find help, understanding … _anything_, but all he saw was the seriousness and the worry in Severus' black eyes and he swallowed heavily.

Severus easily could see the frustration in those green eyes, confusion and the feeling of betrayal clearly visible on Potter's face and his gaze got soft while he took a step towards the younger man, but Potter brushed the hand that tried to touch his shoulder off, looked at him for another moment before he turned away and got into the car.

Feeling at a loss James slammed the door, leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. He still wasn't able to see the danger he'd been in, he didn't even understand what exactly had happened or how it had come to that and again his unsureness and his doubts met him with all force possible.

The only thing he could tell for sure was – he had fucked up, and royally so, again. He had not only gotten himself in trouble but Severus too, again. He always messed things up and that made him angry, angry at himself. And then such things happened.

The passenger's door opened and quietly Severus sat beside James, waiting until he had calmed down, just watching him closely.

"James?" He asked, leaning forwards a bit so he could look into the younger man's pale face but Potter didn't react.

"Potter!" He again tried getting his attention. "I am sorry." He then said, softly, leaning back in his seat and taking a deep breath before releasing it slowly. "I have been worried and I just wanted you out of the situation. It has not been my intention to let you down, I have just been worried. Had Benson used his weapon, then you would be dead now and that …" For a second he paused. "I do not wish losing someone else I – _like _– again." He then added, whispering.

Slowly James turned towards Severus, watching the always so severe man. It was a sad gaze, but then he nodded, sighing. He knew what Severus meant and for a few more seconds he just stared ahead, silently, but then he got off the van, rounded the vehicle and calmly he opened the passenger's door.

Severus watched Potter questioningly and a moment later the young man pointed at him, Severus, and then at the driver's seat. He seemed to be tired beyond anything he ever had seen on him suddenly, exhausted and weak and his own gaze got thoughtful.

"You want me to drive?" He asked, incredulously. Never before had Potter allowed anyone to drive his Voyager, but Potter just nodded while he kept his eyes closed, tiredly leaning against the open door.

He got off the car, actually helped Potter into the car before he closed the door and then got on the driver's seat and behind the steering wheel, a strange feeling, sitting behind the wheel of Potter's car.

"May we leave, Mark?" He called over to the officer who lifted his eyebrow in surprise when seeing him, Severus at the wheel, but then he inclined his head before turning back to Benson.

Mark didn't wonder about Severus wish to leave the location of the incident and it wasn't a problem for him either. He would visit the two during the next few days and settle the matter. But Severus sitting at the driver's side of James' Voyager and seeing James sitting at the passenger's seat – that was a picture he so far had thought not existent.

Severus watched Potter for a moment, sitting on the passenger's seat, relaxed, and he couldn't help smirking while he started the engine and put the gearshift lever to D.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**December 2003**

That really had been a rather dangerous situation back then and mentally he already had seen Potter laying on the ground with a hole between his eyes. Not even magic would have kept the bullet from hitting once it had been shot after all and so he even now, until today, was glad that Mark as though by chance had just appeared to the right time and on the right place and in some way he actually had been irritated at James, not really angry and not really cross either, he hadn't blamed him for anything, knowing that James wouldn't understand anyway, but … if he liked it or not, he had just been scared, scared of what could happen out of the situation but also scared what could happen with the relationship between James and him.

Today such a thing wouldn't happen again – or seldom at least and surely not to such an extention anymore.

For once, James wouldn't get upset in a situation like back then with Benson anymore, would stay calmer and he would take the situation with a smile on his lips, in most situations at least, and on the other hand, he wouldn't be on his way as hectically and as fast as he had been back then. He had become calmer to begin with.

While he, even after the incident with Benson back then, after any lifting of a speed limit immediately jammed the accelerator, he now could chug along the road for a few more miles until he finally slowly and leisurely added speed – a bit of speed and whenever someone teased him with his slow driving, then he just shrugged his shoulders and said "you just get as old as I am, people as old as I am need time for watching, we can't see as quickly as do you", a fact that had him, Severus, smirking at the younger man who was barely more than a boy still with his now 23 years only.

But well, during the past few years James had learned, and accepted too, that he just was a chaotically human being and that he always would be just that.

He had gotten calmer and more balanced, but James – and he, Severus, too – they both knew that even though, there still could be situations during which the younger man would give his best effort to stay calm, to control himself, but during which he just wouldn't manage despite all his efforts, especially if he was unsure or tired.

But James could live with that, and he, Severus, he could too.

Yes, not only he had learned during the past few years, but James too.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**December 2003**

_Cold arctic winds will move to the south over the Barren Ground throughout the afternoon and night and will, together with rapidly falling temperatures, create snow drifts and icy winds._

Ice winds … snow drifts … damn!

Of course they had such at least once a month, he did know this, but even though, James paced the kitchen floor, nervously. A moment later he abruptly stopped, leaned his head to one side and closed his eyes. He'd wanted to do something, just a moment ago, but – by the life of him, he didn't remember what it had been he'd been about to do and he shook his head in frustration.

He just couldn't remember and questioningly he looked at the washing machine, at the dish washer and finally at the laundry dryer, as if these machines could give him an answer to his unasked question.

But well, of course they didn't, they were machines only. They weren't able to think for him, nor to give him an answer – and surely not to an unasked question – and again he shook his head in frustration. Ice winds. That meant a drop in temperature of at least twenty to thirty degrees.

Did Severus have his gloves with him? H hadn't asked him and Severus had …

Yes, he had them with him. He'd been wearing them when he'd left the house this morning. Harry sighed with relief while his thoughts slowly drifted away, into the past.

Gloves …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_Burning wheels and forgotten gloves – part one._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:  
**

at the present time it looks like this:

507 Points - Slytherin

468 Points - Gryffindor

420 Points - Ravenclaw

201 Points - Hufflepuff


	14. burning wheels and forgotten gloves - 1

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if Harry Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … alright, I know that I'm late with my update, but I have been playing with what Santa Clause brought for me (I must have been less evil this year … o.O …) and I have been watching "the hobbit" and therefore also "the lord of the rings" together with my son, so – well, I just didn't have too much time for an update during the past few days … also, like I said, I'll work this up to chapter 15, you'll have to deal with it but I hope you'll forgive … except of that –

_I do wish all of you a **Happy New Year**, a fortunate time and a year 2013 that may be even better than 2012 has been …_

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**Here and now**

**Chapter fourteen **

**Burning wheels and forgotten gloves – part one**

**The beginning of December 2003**

Slowly, with forty miles per hours the truck was crawling across the frozen surface, the headlights forcing themselves through the darkness, mile for mile, and soft music started cutting through the stillness of the endless wide land of the Barren Grounds, music that became louder from minute to minute.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

_Stay where you are, my friend! No one will hurt you! Easy, my friend!_

The wolf was laying behind a snow mound, lurking, the muscles tightened but he was completely calm and still while he patiently watched his prey.

_Patience! Wait! Just a few more seconds! Just in a moment you can get him!_

He was sure he would get home with the pray. He was one of the best hunters of the entire pack. Not the alpha wolf, surely not. This little task he rather left with his brother. Should he be annoyed with the younger wolves, should he wrack his brain how to lead the pack in safe land during the winter months and risk his neck to keep the pack safe from other wolves. No! He rather preferred hunting. After all, he was an important member of the pack, not the youngest anymore – but neither too old yet so that he had to live at the edge of the pack – and yet old enough so that he was counted as an experienced and wise member.

_Just keep him in the belief of safety! Wait until he has started relaxing! Soon … soon …_

The gaze of the predator was entirely calm, watching his prey, his breathing coming absolutely regularly and the tightened muscles didn't even tremble. This particular wolf had already enough experience to know that impatience and excitement only would lead to the failure of his hunt. Only the sensitive nose twitched when the beast allowed scent to leave its mark on his senses.

_Not now … not now … just in a moment … just a second …_

Carefully, nearly inch for inch the covering body of the hunter straightened up, his muscles tightening another notch to launch at his prey.

_Now … Now … No- …_

Soft but strange sounds were heard, coming down from the north and the darkness was cut by a soft light far away while at the same time the ground started shaking, the air filled by a soft growling.

_What_ – was that? An earth shake? Thunder?

No, it felt different and it came close too quickly.

For a split second the wolf turned his gaze away from his prey, turned his gaze towards the north and when he gazed back at the bright arctic hare, this one had lifted his small head too, the tiny nose twitching nervously while he tried to find out if that, what was coming close, meant danger to him or not.

The wolf tightened his muscles another notch. Now or never, his prey was about to flee even before he had started his hunt – but insecurity had taken hold of him and he hesitated.

And it was this hesitation that cost him his prey, but that at the same time saved his life also. Because suddenly the strange noise was there, the lights blinding and the trembling of the earth startling him, frightening him, just when something too big and something too loud passed him, just a few meters away, gliding along between him and his prey.

With a racing heartbeat, caused by excitement and fear, the wolf pressed his body back into the snow, deeper this time while he watched the strange and loud something with a confused and distrustful gaze and for a split second fear paralysed him, his limbs, his entire being. Nervously he laid his ears flat and the hair on his neck stood tall while he instinctively let loose a deep growling from his throat.

But then the strange something was gone, as fast as it had come, it was gone and relieved the beast relaxed his overstrained muscles. With a still quickly beating heart the wolf followed the thing with his gaze before his eyes searched back his prey – but this too was gone, run off by the lout thing and angrily he stood there for another moment, tall and proud, gazing at the south before he turned, disappointed, and then started to trot back to his den.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Angrily James ran his hand over his eyes. He was angry and frustrated. He could sit at home now, comfortably and with a bag of crisps, watching a movie. But no! He still was sitting in his truck, had just passed Caribou and still was about 130 miles away from home. And it was already long after midnight.

He's been starting in time this morning, had left the middle store at five punctually, but he just had reached the Dubawnt Lake when he'd been stopped. Mad Rush and Easy, drivers from the other shift who had passed this area last night into the direction of the middle store, they had reported cracks in the ice and already at three in the morning there had been a few men starting to repair the damage.

James hadn't noticed any of this. When the report had been made last night he'd been asleep already and when the men had started at three in the morning he still had been asleep.

Well, Big Bear had told him this morning that he better didn't start yet, that he better had another cup of coffee or two, had said something about him not getting too far anyway, had said something about cracks in the ice of the Dubawnt Lake, but he hadn't really got it, not the meaning of the words anyway. He just had waved it off, sleepily, had gone into his truck and sat behind the steering wheel, had started his music and then had started the truck. He'd been a bit confused about Big Bear, watching him with a shaking head and calling him a bull-headed blithering idiot, but he hadn't really realized all of this in his morning drowsiness.

However, at about half past nine, rather punctually therefore, he had reached the Dubawnt Lake, but he hadn't been able to cross it. Walter Hudson had come towards him waving both his arms to stop him and after he had lowered his speed, confused, had then stopped the truck, Walter had climbed up the driving door of his truck, had put his head through the window after he, James, had opened it, smirking all over his old and wrinkled face.

"Morn' James." Walter had greeted him, laughing. "Have already waited for you, boy. I've always known that you're nuts, but today you've taken the cake!"

Well, James had looked at him in confusion and apparently a bit questioningly too, because Walter Hudson had laughed loudly.

"Big Bear already called us, reported that you've been starting even though he's warned you. What an idiot, really I fear the contact to Severus is doin' no good to you, boy, he's have a bad influence on you. You see, he's already batshit insane, but you've beaten him today. Not even Severus would have started driving this morning had he known that the ice had cracks."

Well, James had been leaning back in his seat, groaning in frustration, hitting his head at the headrest and running his hands over his face, calling himself an insane fool, only then realizing what exactly Big Bear had meant that morning, when he'd said that he wouldn't get far anyway, because of the ice having cracks.

But well, he had been there, the situation had been crappy and he hadn't been able to change anything about it anyway. And so he had gotten off the truck, cursing and ranting, had taken a good look at the ice road.

Holes had already been drilled through the ice through which water had been pumped above the ice that now had to freeze over again. And that had meant a mandatory break of several hours for James. Fucking damn!

And so he'd been climbing up the driver's cabin again, lightening a cigarette, pouring coffee into his cup and had – well – had breakfast. Severus would have risen his eyebrow in an accusing manner at this kind of … _breakfast_ … but, well, Severus hadn't been here to rebuke him. And it had done a great deal good to him, the cigarette as well as the coffee. They had dispelled the beginning nausea that had started roaming his stomach, had made him a bit more awake.

Severus.

He'd had to tell Severus about his being late, or he would worry if he, James, would be late tonight. And so he'd taken the mike.

"Severus?" He had asked after he'd taken a sip of the hot coffee.

"Yes,?" Had come the answer, just a few seconds later.

It was strange.

Severus either had an absolute unmistakable feeling for _when exactly_ he tried to call him, or that man had nothing else to do all day long than sitting beside the radio and waiting for his call, and he couldn't help smirking at that thought. In other words, it was the same as he himself did. On the other hand – he actually was sure that this goddamn ratfink was capable of hearing that bloody radio in the garage even – _and_ then being in the kitchen just seconds later, without being out of breath even, just to answer him immediately.

Or it had something to do with these strange things Severus was doing sometimes …

Well, he better didn't think of _that_!

"Just wanted to tell you that it's gonna be late tonight – again." He'd finally answered, nearly laughing when he had imagined Severus' facial expression. But even though had he been able to hear his own anger in his voice.

"What happened?" Severus had asked, automatically assuming that something had happened. "You do have your sunglasses this time, don't you?" But well, how could it had been otherwise? The thing with his sunglasses had been not even a month ago and Severus apparently remembered it too well.

"Have 'em." He'd answered, grinning. "Just the ice across the Dubawnt Lake is cracked and Walter Hudson and his men just have started pumping water up. As it seems, I'll be sitting here for a few hours until the water has frozen over to a new cover of the ice road. Not my fault this time, I can't do anything about cracks in the ice. I'm innocent!"

"You and innocent, that is impossible." Severus had sounded more than just critically and James had grimaced. "But, have you mentioned Walter Hudson? He's from the middle store, isn't he? From the other shift. Didn't Big Bear or Worry say something when you have started this morning?"

Well, once more had he grimaced, but this time not because Severus had teased him but because he'd had to admit to Severus that he hadn't listened to them – or that he'd been overtired still when he'd started this morning. Whatever it had been, it had been the same anyway.

"He has, I guess." He'd finally answered. "But I fear I haven't realized that so shortly after I've been up."

Well, Severus had told him to do his hibernation during the weekend and not while he was on his way with the truck, had told him to have breakfast and grinning James had assured to his older friend that he had done just that.

"Coffee and cigarettes, hmm?" Had been Severus' only comment to that and again he had been reminded that this man just knew him too good, much too good – and that this fact did disturb him definitely.

However, after he'd finished his coffee and after he'd put out his cigarette in the ashtray he'd gotten off and had started checking his load. Of course the machines were loaded securely and of course they also were fixed securely, and the cartons too, the boxes and the sacks – there was no shift of cargo of course – but one, he'd been moving this way and therefore avoided freezing, and second he better played safe.

It's been already half past five in the evening when the ice had been freezing enough finally to cross it safely with a truck, to hold the weight of a fully loaded truck. And so he had gone back into the cabin with a delay of eight hours, had started the engine and had then slowly and carefully entered the ice.

Slowly and carefully had he been creeping over the fresh ice of the Dubawnt Lake, like always in such a situation wondering if the ice would hold the weight of the truck or if the new ice would break, causing him to sink into the icy lake. It always was a gambling game, but it had carried him and he'd been able to cross the freshly repaired part of the lake safely, had crossed the Dubawnt Lake.

And now he was here, had just passed Caribou, 130 miles away from home and he had at least four hours ahead of him to drive. Well, at his speed it rather would be six hours.

He'd already lowered his speed from 50 to 40 miles an hour when he'd left Ennadai. He'd been tired and the headaches were back since the early evening – added to the nausea in his stomach. And now it was nearly one and he'd just left Caribou behind, had ceased his speed for a few MPH more when the dizziness clearly demanded his attention. In other words, he would reach Churchill not before four in the morning, rather at five, in the middle of the night. But well, it was better than in the morning at ten or something like that like it would have been with his sunglasses if Severus had not picked him up.

Well, he just would fall into his bed, would close his eyes and sleep. The entire weekend he would just sleep. That was all he wanted now and startled he realized that his eyes had slowly started dropping for real.

Damn! That was the last thing he could afford right now, to fall asleep, and so he stretched his aching back, leaned forwards and turned the music louder. With his right he took the thermos flask, holding it between his thighs and opened the screw cap. He poured some of the hot drink into his cup before he closed the flask and took his cigarettes.

About 35 miles per hour he was driving now and cursing he took a drag, took a sip of the hot coffee. He'd informed Severus when he'd started driving again and the older man had called for him again about an hour ago, had asked him to drive carefully, seeing that he surely was overtired.

Damn, of course he was. He knew that best himself, after all he was sitting since twenty hours in this truck here. But well, just four hours more, four hours more and the he would …

Rubber. That – was rubber! That was clearly and definitely rubber he was smelling.

Quickly and with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach he cast a quick glance at his left side mirror and he could see a flickering light. Damn …

Hastily he cast a look at his right side mirror. Nothing. Again he gazed into his left side mirror before he opened the window and leaned his head out of the cabin, looking back.

Fire.

Damn! That couldn't be true now!

One of his twin tires on his rear axle was burning!

Instinctively he was about to cease his speed even more to stop the truck, but immediately the flames burned up, licking over the paint of the truck and cursing he pulled his head back inside, forced himself to accelerate his speed a bit.

He needed air stream. He had to accelerate the truck, at least up to fifty or sixty miles per hour to keep the fire under control if he wanted to prevent the flames to turn up over the truck and flashing over at the tank. And he had to keep this speed one way or another until the tire was burnt out, in the hope that the fire would not flash over at another tire. But this too, he only managed if he could keep his speed of fifty or sixty miles per hour minimum.

Even though the fifty miles per hour they normally were driving were already insanity and not really possible either. There were only a few drivers who did manage to hold this speed, and luckily he was one of them, mostly at least, if he was well.

But sixty miles per hour? Out here? That was madness!

Not to mention that it was … _forbidden_? But forbiddance or not, his tire _was_ burning and he had this one chance only. Well, should they give him a ticket, he could show them the burned down tire – well, given that he would survive this here of course and once more he looked into his side mirror, nervously, cursing.

For him it seemed like half eternity until he finally had reached the sixty miles per hour, while his heart was beating up to his throat and he only could hope that the ice below was thick enough and strong enough to carry him despite the disturbance of the waves his speed might cause.

Physic.

That was just physic and while he'd been sleeping for most of his math lessons, he'd been in a coma for all of his physic lessons.

Anyway he now tried to calculate one way or another how thick the ice below had to be to bear the vibrations the weight of his truck was causing with a speed of sixty miles per hour. Of course he didn't find a solution, he didn't even know how to calculate any of this, but well, his thoughts were occupied, he was distracted and this did help him to keep his nerves. Anyway he abandoned the calculations after a few minutes already. He did need his entire concentration to keep the truck on the ice with this speed under control and this damn calculating only took his concentration away from this.

Over and over again his gaze went off the road in front of him, went to his speedometer and then to the side mirror to have a look at the still burning tire and over and over again he had to force himself to look back at the ice road before him, had to force himself to keep his speed and after a few minutes already, a few minutes which seemed like hours to him, he didn't just feel tired, he felt worn out, he felt exhausted.

After a few minutes – and such a tire could burn for two hours or even more. Two hours, damn. Cursing he hit his fist onto the steering wheel. He was frustrated, despaired, and he definitely felt queasy.

So much for – the _man_, the _hero_, the _trucker_, just for _hard_ men. Damn! He wasn't overly large, really not, he was rather small, and he wasn't a muscle man either, but he was no coward, he'd proved that often enough in the past, he was absolutely no coward. But this here … damn, he definitely was scared.

Every now and then he had to force his gaze back at the road and to keep his foot on the accelerator, had to force himself to stay calm and to not break into hectic. And damn, concentration or not, speed or not, burning wheel or not – he just _needed_ a cup of coffee now. And a cigarette.

Again he cast a quick glance at the road in front of him before he leaned sidewards, took the thermos flask from his backpack and poured coffee into the cup he had standing in his centre console while looking out of the windscreen every now and then, over the mixture of ice and snow that gleamed in the light of his headlights.

Then he leaned forwards and took his package of cigarettes, fishing for one of the lung darts. He took the cigarette between his lips and lightened the thing, taking a deep drag. Still watching the street he took the cigarette between his fingers, took the cup and took a sip of the coffee, another drag of his cigarette, a sip of coffee again … and he already felt better, much better.

Of course that only might be imagination.

But on the other hand, caffeine definitely was concentration enchanting, already after a few sips and the nicotine too – his brain cells seemed to need it one way or another. And after all, if he could concentrate, then he could control himself. It was as easy as this.

Damn, he'd never believed it in the past. Really never. And he'd always been the one who'd said – food had nothing to do with the function of a human being – but meanwhile …

Damn – doc Carrington – strangely – had never tried to get him to stop smoking and one day he'd told him that he should try drinking his coffee black, without milk and sugar. He'd never asked why and he still didn't know the reason, but he'd followed the advice of his doctor, like any good patient should do – alright, it actually bad been one of the few – of the _very_ few – times he'd done so, but well, no one needed to know this after all – however, he had realized that the coffee, if he drank it without milk and sugar, it really helped.

Of course coffee always had calmed him somehow, but since he drank it black, enjoying the pure caffeine – that at least he thought what it was – well, he was not only _somehow_ calmer, but he was _really_ calmer. He could concentrate, he could control himself – better at least than without.

And it was the same now.

A few sips of the hot drink helped already and he calmed down, and a few drags of his cigarette helped and he was able to at least control his thoughts and to keep himself from the upcoming panic. It seemed to be a phenomena he hadn't understood until today, that he hadn't been ready to realize for long either, but a few more sips of the coffee and he even was able to lean back in his seat, able to wait for the things to come, and understanding it or not – it wasn't important as long as it worked.

Even when now, in the most unfavourable of all situations possible, a soft voice came from the radio – he just cast a short glance at the ice road in front of him, cast a quick glance in the side mirror, before he leaned forwards to take the mike.

"Yes?" He calmly asked.

"You are alright, James?" He heard Severus' voice, the man's voice sounding as dark as always, as smooth as always and as velvet as always, calm and collected – even if there was a hint of worry.

"Of course I am." He answered. "You?"

"Idiot!" Came the man's voice and of course, he had known that Severus would say something like that, Severus didn't like it, being questioned upon his – being alright or not. "I just wondered if maybe I should call something from the Chinese. It will be four or five in the morning until you're here, won't it? And the Chinese in Churchill has opened the entire night."

Ah, yes. Severus knew that he loved Chinese food.

"Not a bad idea." James answered. "Theoretically. But wait with ordering anything, I'll have to change a tire later before I get home."

There were a few seconds of silence, but then Severus' voice was back, still sounding calm but with a hint of confusion in it. Yes, he _did_ seem to know the older man rather well too, as it seemed.

"You do not by accident have – foretelling abilities, do you?" The man asked, sarcastically.

"Nope." He said. "Not to my knowledge. But I think I don't need any foretelling abilities fort hat. I have a tire burning."

There were another few seconds of silence before there was an irritated "right now?" and James couldn't help grinning while narrowing his eyes at the ice road for another moment.

"Yes, right now." He answered. "Since about a quarter of an hour, I think, so it might burn a while still."

"And you … you are kidding me, Potter." Severus growled.

"Wouldn't do that." He said, trying to sound seriously. "Not while I'm rushing over the ice with sixty miles per hour."

"Sixty … you do seem to have lost one or two of your senses, haven't you? Are you crazy? You just tell me that this is not true, Potter."

Of course the man called him Potter. Severus always called him Potter if he, James, was doing something stupid – or if Severus was simply worried.

"It is." He calmly answered. "The left back twin tire actually."

"And there you are as calm as if watching a children's movie." Oh, oh, Severus was getting sarcastically and that meant danger. "Have you lost _all_ your senses finally?"

"Dunno, don't think so." He sighed. "Damn, Severus, don't worry again. I'm not the first one that's happening to, I just have to try and hold that speed and after that I'll change the tire and well, that's done then."

"You have not taken any strange things, have you?" Severus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

For a moment James though the didn't hear correctly. Severus knew very well that he didn't take any drugs. He'd never done that, not even when he'd been a teenager to try it like so many others. But then he thought to know why Severus had asked this question and he huffed. The man just couldn't understand why he was so calm in such a situation

"Course I have." He finally answered, chuckling. "Nicotine, Caffeine, and not a small dosage of it even."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Had this idiot boy lost his mind completely now?

"Potter!" Severus called out, frustration clear on his voice. "Just stop this nonsense damn! Seriously now, have you?"

"No!" The bloody boy answered, laughing. "I haven't, and now stop it. I'm trying to get through this one way or another, I won't drown, don't worry."

Well, Potter had laughed, but for a split second Severus anyway thought to hear a hint of panic in his voice before he apparently got a grip on himself again and only now he realized that with his palaver he'd taken away a lot of the young man's concentration.

Sighing with guilt he murmured a "sorry" while at the same time he hoped for this damn situation to pass without accident, even though he was not an overly religiously person. He didn't visit church, he didn't pray and to the question if there was a god he'd never had an answer to begin with. And to be honest, he hadn't even thought of that question too much anyway.

"No problem, just let me finish this here." James growled back and he nearly chuckled at that growl. That boy rarely growled something out, that was rather his, Severus' part.

"Alright." He answered, inwardly cursing the little fact that the bloody young wizard waas unable of doing magic. "I won't divide your attention any longer. Be careful and don't take any risks. And inform me the moment this is over."

"I will." James promised before he lightened another cigarette, concentrating back onto the situation, gazing into the side mirror. Had the flames become smaller? Or did he just think so out of wishful thinking? But then – no, it only was wishful thinking, he decided when he cast another glance into the left side mirror before he concentrated back onto the ice road ahead.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Finally!

It was half past three meanwhile and finally the tire was burned down. But well, he'd managed to pass good miles during the past one and a half hours. Compulsorily. And now he had about thirty miles to Churchill and then ten more miles until he was at home.

Relieved he leaned back, pressing his back against the backrest of the seat. Damn, was he tired. Every single bone was stiff and hurt. Or were they his muscles? He didn't know and he couldn't really answer his own question. Most likely it was both, because he couldn't even have so many bones than he now thought he felt.

And his headaches were back too, now that the stress was worn down, now that the adrenaline had left his body, they were back with full force. The concentration he'd had to keep up for the past two hours hadn't been too well. The Adrenaline had dispelled them for some time, or at least had kept them under control, but now, after it was gone, now he was to pay for it and with a soft groan he realized that this prize was damn high.

He was entirely exhausted, worn out, and the only thing he right now wanted was to close his eyes and to sleep. But there still was the tire he had to change and there still were about thirty miles to drive. So he slowly straightened with another soft groan.

Severus.

He had promised Severus that he would tell him, the poor soul surely was running a small round warpath into the kitchen floor around the table.

So he took a deep breath, leaned forwards and took the mike. "Severus?" He asked.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus had cooked a new pot of coffee – which already was empty by now, even though he wasn't too much of a coffee drinker like James. But anyway, during the past few hours he'd been drinking one cup after another one while he had walked more than just one mile through the kitchen, the hallway, the living room and back to the kitchen, his mind worrying things over.

If that blasted boy was just able to keep the flames under control, if that idiot brat was just able to keep the truck under control at such a speed, if that idiot didn't just drive too fast, if he just didn't break through the ice, if he just …

The thoughts were running through his head quicker than that he could grasp them and never mind how much he tried to keep them behind his occlumency shields, never mind how much he tried to keep them from particular lines of thoughts, to control them – they just didn't obey his will over and over again, gliding over onto tracks to which he had de-placed the switches, first needing to search them to get his thoughts back onto the tracks where they belonged to.

He even considered using magic in front of the boy and simply apparating there – and only the knowledge that he one way or another would destroy James with this did keep him from doing so, wondering if – if James died, was it worth it then? Wondering about – what was he waiting for anyway …

"Severus?"

He'd just finished another round, entered the kitchen again, ready to take his jacket and to leave the house, to apparate to the ice road from where he would apparate further, and further, until he had found that bloody boy when James' voice came through the radio, sounding soft and tired and far from being as calm as he had sounded last time and while turning he looked at the clock on the microwave. Half past three.

"I am here." He answered. "Are you alright? Do you need help?"

"No, everything is alright." Came James' answer. "The tire is burned down. I'm going to change it and then I'll come home."

"Where are you? Shall I come over to help?" Severus asked. He could hear in Potter's voice just how tired he really was. of course he was, he was on his way since twenty-three hours now and most likely he'd had a headache again too.

"Nope, you needn't." Came the immediate answer from the radio. "I've been able to keep the sixty miles per hour and so I'm just about thirty miles away from Churchill. I'll be at home in an hour."

"Are you sure?" He asked, worried.

Severus was sure that there was a moment of hesitation, but then James' answer came even before he could use this second to his advantage to shove the bloody boy into the direction where he wanted him.

"Yes, I am sure." The blasted brat said. "It would be stupid if you came now, An hour and I'd be home anyway, I'll manage."

"The tire too?" Of course he knew Harry's thick headedness, but if he built him a bridge, then maybe he would agree to his suggestion.

But well, he didn't do so.

"I've changed that damn tire until you're here anyway, I'll manage." The boy answered. "Just stay where you are and just cook a pot of coffee."

"Alright." Severus finally sighed. "But do drive carefully, I do not wish to find you dead upon the last few miles, do you hear, Potter?"

"I will." James promised and he could hear in the boy's voice that this time he really meant it. At least that and he took a deep breath.

"Alright, be careful." He said, eliciting another "I will" from Potter and with a resigned sigh he sat at the kitchen table. For a moment he really thought that everything was alright, at least, it only were thirty miles and thirty miles weren't much, in an hour James would be here.

But then he got up again, continuing his march towards the hallway and the living room.

Thirty miles across the ice, in the middle of the night and alone, while Potter was exhausted and had a headache – and he knew that both facts were applicable – then that was a lot to cover. And there also was a lot that could happen in an hour too. And there it was back, the fact that he simply was worried.

Over and over again James tried to suppress the impulse to worry about anyone – mostly with success – and he even got really insecure if he realized that he indeed worried about someone, didn't want others to worry about him either.

Alright, in this regard he could understand him, but he himself, he didn't suppress the impulse to worry about the persons he loved. It was a normal human reaction, he had learned that much back then, when Lily – when he had learned about the Dark Lord going after Lily, he had been worried to death and never mind what, he had gone to the Potter's house in that night and – he hadn't cared about the Dark Lord finding out about his loyalties back then, hadn't cared about anything but the woman he had loved and – but he had been too late. Lily had been dead already, and her child had been gone already.

He had found that child now, four and a half years ago, and despite what he always had thought about Harry Potter – they had become friends, close friends, James Potter and he.

Merlin, not even Lucius had been a friend as close as …

Never mind what, yes, he had learned that it didn't do any good to suppress the impulse to worry about the people he cared for and this idiot boy happened to belong into this category, as small as this category was. It was a normal human reaction, it was one of the many small weaknesses of the human race and it only was proof that humen were to succumb emotions. And he was human, even if there might be people who would swear stone and bone otherwise.

However, he continued his hiking through the lower part of the house, considerate and calm but continually, preserving his composure, but he had to admit that it was far from being as easy as it normally was, as he was used to when it came to himself and his composure.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Alright – and now he had to go out there into the cold. Damn, alone the thought made him freezing already. Alright, he knew that it was more tiredness with which he shivered for a moment now, while here inside the truck it really was warm. Anyway. He felt no desire to go outside right now, but he knew that he didn't have much of a chance. Not to mention that maybe he'd get awake again with the cold outside. And so he straightened, opened the driver's door to get out, but he stuck his head inside the cabin once more to get his backpack from the passenger's seat.

A cigarette first while he checked the damage done on the tire, and music – he could live with _that_ – seeing that he didn't have any other options right now anyway.

And so he went fishing for a cigarette in his backpack, lightened it with trembling fingers. Damn was that fucking cold! A bit colder and he'd become a girl!

Well, the tire was burned down to the rim, but luckily the metal hadn't become deformed, in other words, he simply could fit a new tire, at least so far he was the lucky one. With a sigh he put his cigarette between his lips, took hold of the lock from the tool loading space between the cabin and the trailer and opened the box to get the wheel wrench, and …

What the …

No – not that, not now!

His heart seemed to stop for a few seconds just to beat furiously against his ribs under the influence of new adrenaline rushing through his body and after the first moment of horror creeping up inside him, paralyzing him for a second or two, during which he even had held his breath – he now leaned his forehead against his lower arm in resignation.

There surely was no bigger idiot existent on this goddamn and godforsaken planet named earth than him!

Ice … coldness … metal … minus temperatures _that_ low … _gloves_!

And just them, he had them … damn … he'd forgotten them, he just had forgotten his gloves! Inside the cabin! Why he! Why always he!

Again he tried to losen his hand from the metal hold, but it was for naught, it was frozen to the metal without fail.

Why always he! Why didn't such things happen to Severus? But he immediately knew the answer to that already before he had formed the question in his head fully.

It was because Severus simply didn't forget such things like gloves or sunglasses. Because Severus always had his senses together, because he always turned on his brain before he acted, because he didn't wander through his life without a care like he, Harry.

For a moment he frowned at the name, wondering why … how that name could have come to his mind, wondering who … but then – just fuck off …

Alright, he took a deep breath, and then … no – he was not without a care. Not really at least. He just was so damn forgetful concerning his things, his sunglasses, and his gloves or his wallet. Why the hell was he so damn forgetful? If he just had taken his gloves out of the cabin with him! Or … or at least his mobile! Damn!

But well, all the ifs and all the buts didn't help now. It was what was and he better tried to figure out what he could do now. Again he tried to get his hand off the bar, but again his efforts were in vain.

Maybe he just should tear his hand off the metal bar?

Uhm … well, better not, nope, better not doing _that_ …

Warmth. He needed warmth. Fire for example. But the tire was burned down.

Softly he chuckled.

Strange, how ironically some days could be, wasn't it? Just an hour ago he had been cursing over that damn burning wheel, hoping that the fire might burn out as soon as possible, and now he could need just this fire to warm up that blasted handle bar. Still softly chuckling and with his free hand only he took the package of cigarettes and fished for another cigarette.

Fire … the lighter …

Hastily he searched the back pocked of his Jeans, fishing for his lighter and holding the flame below the metal of the handle bar. That had to work. Well, at least it had to work theorti- … damn! Damn was that burning hot!

Quickly he pulled the flame away. Damn, that definitely hurt!

But the metal itself hadn't gotten really warm. The flames had burned his hand but had not warmed up the metal of the handle bar. Damn, this way he'd never make any progress, not really at least. So – that thing with the lightener didn't work and he sighed in frustration, hitting his left arm against the metal of the truck in his desperation.

What now?

Damn!

Coffee!

He needed a sip of coffee to think clearly.

With his left hand he pulled closer the backpack and took the thermos flask from the bag, seizing it between his legs to open the screw lock. Well, he had the coffee now but no cup.

_'Do not drink from the thermos flask directly – possible risk of burning.' _

This warning was on the instruction leaflet of every thermos flask he ever had bought. _But he didn't have a cup!_ So he placed the flask at his lips and carefully took a sip of the coffee. Hot! But not too hot, not so hot that he burned his lips. Well, that worked, he thought, grinning satisfied and he took another sip. Good! That really was good! Definitely good!

Wait a moment!

Damn! Just wait a moment!

Hot, but not too hot so that he would burn himself. And even if, even if it were so … thoughtfully he looked at the hand that was frozen to that damn, bloody handle bar, at the thermos flask in his other hand, again at his right hand that meanwhile really hurt with the coldness, and finally once more at the thermos flask. There wasn't much of the coffee left, but well, maybe, with a bit of luck … and finally he just poured the coffee over the metal of the handle bar his hand was attached to.

Damn, that actually was hot, hotter than he had thought and it definitely hurt! Anyway he forced himself to ignore the pain and to pour the remainder of the coffee over the metal – and therefore over his hand too. He pressed his lips together, his teeth and held his breath. He just had to get his hand away from this damn handle bar! _How_ – he didn't really care right now.

But finally the coffee was empty and with some frustration he realized that his hand still was frozen to the metal bar, hurt, and the situation had not become any better. The liquid had – just as it had been running over the metal – started freezing over, had caused an added ice layer and his hand hurt more and more. And he was cold, ice cold! He was shivering and quivering and his teeth already rattled with cold too.

And now he didn't even have any more coffee. If he had just drunk it … it would have done him more good than this here now!

Out of frustration he once more hit his left arm at the truck.

"Damn!" He called out into the darkness with frustration. "Damn! Why! Damn, are you an idiot, James Potter! An idiot! An absolute insane idiot!"

But well, he could scream as long as he wanted, it wouldn't really help him out of this situation here.

_'Think! Damn, just think! Get those blasted brain cells of yours to working!'_

Again he fished a cigarette out of the package, but his fingers were trembling so much with cold now that he had troubles with this simple task and when he finally had managed it, his stiff fingers weren't able to hold it yet and it fell to the snow covered ground. With still rattling teeth and cursing he tried to pick it up, but he didn't reach it, his right hand that was frozen to the handle bar kept him from getting down far enough.

So he took another cigarette from the package, this time careful to not lose it again and put it between trembling lips, with a frustrated gaze into the package he realized that only three cigarettes were left in there and angrily he frowned while he lightened the thing and finally did a deep intake of breath while he tiredly leaned against the metal of the truck behind him, leaning onto the burned out tire of the truck.

This one too was cold meanwhile, ice cold, as cold as _he_ soon would be.

Again he did a deep drag from the cigarette in his trembling hand, trying to get his mind back on concentration, trying to get one or another idea.

Freeing his hand from the metal with pulling it away, he better didn't think of that, the thing with the cigarette lighter hadn't been working and the attempt with the coffee hadn't been helping the situation either, had even worsened the situation. So, there weren't many options left which he could try and if he were honest, he wasn't able to think of anything he really could use. He just knew that his hand hurt more and more and he knew that he should get it away from the ice soon if he wanted to avoid secondary damage, like for example frostbites on his hand?

Or to freeze to death himself out here in the wilderness.

Bot how, damn? He ran his hand over his face to get rid of the stinging pain the cold air caused, for a moment strange things appearing in the back of his mind, things like landing on the roof of the school building when Dudley and his gang had been chasing him to beat him up, things like uncle Vernon's hand burning when he had beaten him over and over and had never stopped, swearing that he would beat him to death, things like an old and dried piece of bread suddenly appearing in his cupboard when his aunt had threatened to stop feeding him at all whenever he had burned the Dursleys' food once in a while, things like …

Forcing his thoughts away from that direction he closed his eyes trying to imagine Severus' face. He had told Severus – an hour. And he knew that if he wasn't at home in an hour, and Severus wouldn't be able to call him, neither per radio nor per his mobile, then most likely he would start on his own to search for him. That meant that – with the Jeep – he could be here in about one and a half hours, or in maybe two hours. The problem was, Severus would find a deep frozen corpse by then, a deep frozen corpse that was glued with one hand to the handle bar of the tool loading space.

Again he ran his left hand over his forehead to get rid of the piercing pounding caused by the coldness.

Friction!

Had he completely lost his mind somewhere on the road between the middle store and Churchill? Why hadn't he thought of that earlier? Friction caused warmth, at least that was one of the few things what he had heard during one or another of his physics classes in school.

Of course he hadn't thought of it earlier! He'd been in a coma during his physics classes after all.

But well, if this here did work, then he would pay a visit to his old physics teacher and bring him one of his bottles of mead.

Well, and if it didn't, then he would pay a visit to the old man anyway, as a ghost.

But well – yes, maybe … _maybe_ this _could_ work!

Hastily he used his teeth to pull the sleeve of his jacked over his hand – just to be on the safe side, not that his left hand too froze to that bloody thing – and started to rub the material over the metal of the handle bar. He just had to move fast enough and well, then also it would also keep him warm. At least that was what he hoped.

But nothing … absolutely nothing … he could rub over the metal as much as he wanted and as hard as he wanted, it just didn't work, damn! But well, it was the only possibility that came to his mind and so he just had to go on like this.

Maybe if he laid his jacket over the metal and his hand, maybe his body warmth – at least that what was left of it – would add to the warmth he tried to create with his rubbing and maybe that would be enough then and …

Hastily he slipped out of the jacket, wound it around the hand and the metal, up to his arm and with his teeth he pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his left hand, like said – better safe than sorry – and then he gripped back the fabric of his jacket and again started rubbing over the metal.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It was nearly five. An hour was gone and Potter had to be here soon.

Coffee.

James had asked him to prepare coffee and he stopped his wandering, approaching the coffee maker. Thoughtfully, once more looking at the clock, he put the dark brown coffee powder into the coffee filter, poured water into the container and turned the machine on.

It was _more_ than an hour since he had talked to the boy. Much more than an hour and James should be here long since!

Sighing he tried to calm himself again. He would come.

_He's just about to drive slowly and carefully. Just wait, allow him time, he will come_ – and again Severus began pacing the house.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_Burning wheels and forgotten gloves – part two._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House Cup:  
**

at the present time it looks like this:

508 Points - Slytherin

469 Points - Gryffindor

421 Points - Ravenclaw

202 Points - Hufflepuff


	15. burning wheels and forgotten gloves - 2

**Title:**

Here and now

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Starts 1999 and goes on to 2005 with flashbacks to 1997

**Summary:**

AU / What if James Potter never had been to Hogwarts? And what if he never knew that he was a wizard? What if he never had met Severus Snape? Two people having loved and lost, what if they will meet long after they are meant to meet?

**Disclaimer: **

Well … I do not own James Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings … J. K. Rowling owns them all … I just borrow them a bit …

Uhm … and well … sorry for the confusion I create within the wizarding world … I am sure I can straighten it after I am done with this … I at least promise to try …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing … I do not have much experience in James Potter stories … it is my first one, I have to admit …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been abused.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**Here and now**

**Chapter fifteen **

**Burning wheels and forgotten gloves – part two**

**The beginning of December 2003**

Slowly but surely James realized that – it seemed to work, a bit at least. Slight warmth started to slowly take hold beneath the fabric of his jacket, seemed to spread over at the metal of the handle bar his hand was still glued to. But well, it was no wonder. He himself didn't freeze anymore, on the contrary. But on the other hand, the muscles in his left arm started to hurt

Carefully he tried to get his hand off the metal, but nothing. Nothing! It still didn't work!

Damn! Absolutely nothing!

Alright, again, he just had to go on. He could kill two birds with one stone. One, with the movement he kept himself from freezing to death and second – the handle bar definitely _had_ become warmer. Not much, he still couldn't move his right hand, not a bit, but at least, if he didn't just imagine, then at least there was a small, a very small effect on his attempt. Body temperature. He just had to reach body temperature and not more! He didn't have to get the metal to melting, nor anything to a cooking point – only body temperatur.

His thoughts circled around this particular point and he thought he even could get there, he had a chance to get there, he wasn't cold anymore after all, he was rather warm with the attempt, if not even … hot? If anyone had told him in the past how strenuous rubbing over a metal handle bar could be, he wouldn't have believed it, but right now, in this situation, he experienced it himself.

But never mind, because this warmth did flow into his right arm after all, to his right hand, was held beneath the jacket and together with the warmth of rubbing over the metal – at least that was what he hoped – it was adding one to the other and it just _had_ to work. That just _couldn't_ fail now.

His left arm really started to get tired and his muscles started screaming to him to stop this ridiculous movements, damn! How long was he about to do those early morning gymnastics now? Half an hour? An hour? Two hours? He didn't know. Somehow he seemed lost of any sense of time.

He wouldn't have been able to even tell if it maybe only had been ten minutes, or five. Anyway he felt that this was a race, a race between time and strength, a race he might lose anyway.

If he wasn't able to get his hand lose before his muscles gave in then … damn! He surely wouldn't be able to start this nonsense here a second time!

But well, slowly but surely the muscles in his left arm started failing, his movements became slower, sluggishly, against his will, became jerkily, and with a desperate movement he hit his foot against the burned out tire of the truck.

Not now! Damn, _not now!_

He could felt hat there was something happening, parts of his hand started to get away from the metal, there wasn't much needed anymore so – _not now!  
_

With a scream of frustration he threw himself backwards and even before he was able to think of the consequences of his actions, even before he knew that the pain would be horrible, in just one split second he knew – there was no going back now. He had put his entire frustration, his entire despair into this one movement and he wasn't able to stop his backwards motion anymore.

There was a nasty sound the moment his hand came off the metal, followed by a burning pain and again he screamed, this time however not out of frustration but because of the pain and he clasped his right wrist with his left hand, not daring to touch his burning palm yet. He leaned his shoulder against the truck heavily while he gazed down at his bleeding palm, gasping and trembling, before he glanced at the metal handle bar, the thing covered with shreds of skin and he even could watch the blood covering the metal starting to freeze over and he – still gasping for breath, horrified at the sight and at what he had done, turned his gaze away, leaned with his back against ht truck, slowly gliding down the cold metal until he was sitting on the ground, leaning his back against the burned down tire.

He just felt sick.

Still trembling he got another cigarette out of the package, painstaking slowly, realizing that there just were two left.

This time however he didn't tremble because of cold. He wasn't cold, surely not. On the contrary. He actually felt warm and he could feel the sweat running over his forehead while he lightened his cigarette. No, this time he was trembling out of pain, maybe even out of horror, horror over himself.

How could _one_ human being hurt himself the way he had done just a moment ago? Most likely it just would have taken him a few more minutes and he'd gotten his hand free, damn! Just a few minutes more.

_Are you sure?_ The small and soft voice in the back of his mind asked, the one he had heard so often lately, brought his doubts back to a level with his so barely existent feeling of safety. Would it really have been so easy? Or had it only been his imagination? Would he really have had the strength to go on for a few more minutes? Or would the muscles in his left arm simply had failed him before any results?

Anyway, now – in this moment it really seemed unfathomable what he had done and once again he gazed down at his palm, and finally at the scraps of skin that still were glued by coldness at the metal, his own skin, the freezing blood.

Shuddering he looked away, took another drag from his cigarette, inhaling deeply and trying to calm himself down. He had to keep a clear mind now.

Alright, he gritted his teeth and every now and then he couldn't help inhaling sharply, holding his breath until his lungs hurt, until he thought he would suffocate, but he had gotten his hand free. Slowly he tried to get himself back under control. Just a few drags more and then he would bandage up his hand and try to change that blasted tire with which this bloody shit had started – with one hand, as good as possible, hoping that he'd manage, one way or another.

Still he was leaning with his back against the burned off tire of the truck, leaned his head against the cold metal and closed his eyes, frustrated, maybe still a bit shocked, while his thoughts started to drift off und only a few minutes later he realized that he actually was about to fall asleep, that he had started freezing again and – now really horrified – he forced his tiredness, his nausea and his horror away, took the thermos flask with his left hand.

But it was empty.

_'Never mind that, damn! Just get up you bloody idiot and bandage your hand!'_ He thought. _'And then you go and change that bloody tire! And then you see that you get home!'_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus was sitting in the kitchen.

At least for the next several minutes before he again started to try walking a small path into the floor of the house. He hadn't been able to lay down and sleep all night long, he just worried too much and every few minutes his gaze automatically went to the sideboard beside the fridge, to the radio, wondering if he should call James or not. He already had downed his second pot of coffee today, but with some annoyance and frustration he realized that coffee did not get _him_ half as calm as it did James.

Again his thoughts drifted off to his friend.

James definitely was the one man who seemed to attract anything that could happen to a trucker out there while driving the ice roads. Somehow he seemed to attract any disaster like a magnet, defect breaks, speeding, trouble with the Hudsons, forgotten winter clothing, forgotten tools, forgotten sunglasses, not to mention ignoring warnings about cracks in the ice because he wasn't rested, up to burning wheels – just to not forget the newest events.

The only thing that had not happened to James so far was – breaking through the ice.

Not yet at least.

Suddenly he shivered and he poured another cup of coffee, more to distract himself than because he would have liked the brewage. Such thoughts he rather should keep away until later, when James was at home safely, but it was too late for that, wasn't it? This thought had come to his mind and this thought seemed to not let go now – and it was already seven in the morning and James wasn't home.

At first he had avoided it to call James again, not ready to aggravate the younger man with his worry, but again and again he had calculated how long it would take James for the last thirty miles and even if he considered that James might have been driving very carefully, his calculation ended at five o'clock – and now it was seven. No one did need so long to change a tire.

A few minutes earlier he _had_ taken the mike and he _had_ called for James, but he hadn't gotten an answer even. Gritting his teeth he cast another glance at the radio, just as if it was the thing's fault – whatever for – and with a final growl he turned abruptly and left the kitchen to grab his jacket. He would go and search for the boy.

A moment later however his resolution changed into a horrified feeling.

Something was coming up the driveway and towards the house – but it was not James's Voyager, it was the truck. And it sounded as if …

Hastily he hurried along the dark corridor and opened the front door, already knowing what awaited him …

And yes, the truck was rushing along the driveway, directly towards the house and only a few meters away from the front veranda the truck started lurching to the side.

What in Merlin's name …

"Potter!" He called out, shocked, even if he knew exactly that the man inside wouldn't be able to hear him but this little fact he didn't realize in that moment and he took a step down the front steps, helplessly shaking his head. What was that idiot boy doing? Had he fallen asleep? Had he lost his mind?

When the truck started lurching it came off the driveway and slipped to the right side of the way, towards the garages and Severus saw that the wheels moved, knew that James inside the truck had tried to steer and to prevent the truck crashing into the front part of the house, knew that James was awake.

But just as much as James knew it, he too knew that the truck, if it once started sliding across the ice, it wasn't to be stopped and he knew what would happen, finally awaking out of his stupor and with a final brace he prepared himself, hoping that he would be able to keep the impact from killing Potter, lifting his hand to soften whatever he could soften.

"Damn, Potter!" He called through the yard, angrily while he tried to stop the truck without having the vehicle toppling over to its side. "Just stop! Are you crazy? How in Merlin's name do you always manage such things? Drunken, aren't you? Have your driving license purchased by auction on eBay?"

But a moment later already, when the truck crashed with a final creaking and thundering into the edge of the garages and then came to a sudden stop, he regretted his words, hoping that James might not have heard them. Of course he hadn't, he knew that, no one could call out loud enough to over-tune the creaking and thundering of the halfway collapsing garage and for a moment he wondered what might have happened if he had not stopped the forceful speed of the truck the moment he had been sliding towards the garages.

Sliding on the ice himself he came to a halt beside the truck and at the same time already climbed up the driver's door, opening that blasted thing and climbing into the cabin.

Why didn't Potter react? Damn! Why didn't he say anything? The James Potter he knew would hit his fist on the steering wheel, cursing loudly or something like that … why …

James was sitting in the driver's seat, his arms leaning on the steering wheel and his head he'd been laying on his arms. No one lay like this after having lost consciousness upon the impact and so he guessed that nothing had happened to him, not much at least and slowly he stretched out his hand, softly touching the boy on his shoulder.

Said boy bolted up, startled and with a soft cry, and startled himself he quickly had to jerk back to avoid collision between James's head and his chin. But again he had himself back under control, watching the boy and a second time he was startled. James looked like death himself, pale and with dark circles beneath his eyes, watching him startled, scared, clearly not realizing what had happened and surely not realizing who was beside him. He blinked a few times before he finally breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back and slowly closing his eyes.

"James?" Severus softly asked, his voice – even if barely – back under control. "Are you alright?"

The idiot boy re-opened his eyes, gazed at him for a few seconds, blinking shocked, as if he had to think about the question first before he finally nodded, tiredly and still dazed, but James didn't make any attempts to get off the cabin of the truck.

Casting a closer look at the boy he lifted his eyebrow disapprovingly.

A bloody cut ran over the right side of his forehead, his left hand he had bandaged poorly and he was trembling with cold. Frowning Severus just now realized that it was ice cold inside the cabin, the glass of the window being frozen over partly even.

"Everything alright here?" He heard a soft voice from behind and turned. Sam was standing behind him, apparently had been woken by the noise of the impact and the halfway collapsing garage. Calmly Severus nodded, gazing for another second at James and then back to Sam.

"Yes, everything is alright here." He calmly answered. "Go back to the house and turn on the kettle. Put a pyjama over the oven to warm it up. I will be in with James in a moment."

Sam nodded for a moment and then turned, heading back towards the house. He knew that Severus' calmness was a serious calmness. Of course, Severus always was calm and therefore he trusted him so much, he guessed. But this calmness here right now was a different one than normally. It was about the same calmness he'd showed the day when James had forgotten his sunglasses, when he'd been starting to pick James up on his way and he knew that it _wasn't_ just alright, not entirely at least. And therefore he hurried to do what Severus had asked of him.

When Sam was gone he turned back towards James.

"Alright, Potter, time to get you to warmth. Out you go." He said, asking the younger man to leave the truck, at the same time gripping his shoulders.

Well, James nodded, but he didn't make any move to really get off the truck and Severus watched him with a questioningly raised eyebrow.

"Just wait until the truck stopped turning in circles." James answered his unasked question in a whisper.

"Dizzy?" He asked, and when James nodded he couldn't help smirking for a moment. "Alright." He then sighed. "Anyway you just get your sorry behind out of that truck, you're far too old for a merry-go-round."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Despite his headaches James couldn't help laughing and groaning he pressed his hand at his aching forehead. But then he straightened up and sighing in frustration once again he left the cabin with Severus' help, allowing the older man to slowly lead him away from the garages and towards the house.

"Something happened at the impact?" Severus asked and after a few seconds of thinking over it, during which James actually had to look down himself he shook his head.

"Except of this here, hmm?" The man said, pointing at the cut on his forehead and James stopped for a moment, blinking at the man in irritation before he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. He didn't feel the cut on his forehead even and so it wasn't important, he'd definitely had worse. If just his headaches and the bloody dizziness – and the pulsating in his right hand – would finally stop, that would make him really happy.

"And what have you done there?" Severus asked, pointing at James's hand as if he had read his thoughts.

"Well, I've just changed the tire." He answered, evasively. Still with a soft voice as if he had to force himself to speak – and if he thought about it, then he had to admit that, yes, it was just like that. He didn't really want to speak, he just wanted to lay down, to close his eyes and to sleep. But his headaches didn't allow such lines of thoughts, not without taking revenge and he realized that he rather shouldn't think too much on them, on his headaches.

"And how, if I may ask?" Severus asked, his voice sounding sarcastic again and he sighed. "Because normally that isn't such a dangerous thing to do, changing a tire."

"Well, not if you're changing the tire at a temperature of – about seventy degrees below zero and without gloves." He murmured, sighing, again wondering how he could have forgotten his gloves in the truck.

"Why would you … what in Merlin's name … what had happened to your gloves, Potter?" The man growled, stopping him and watching him with his narrowed eyes and James slumped his shoulders. The man too often called him Potter tonight, a sure thing for him to know that the man was very angry, or well, at least more worried than ever before.

"Uhm …" James made, looking up sheepishly and the moment he looked into the serious face of the older man, into the dark eyes, that pierced him he knew that the man already knew the answer. The blasted man anyway asked a "well?" while being barely able to keep from smirking.

"Well … forgot them in the cabin of the truck." James murmured, barely audible, but Severus had heard anyway. Of course he had. What else? This bloody ratfink always heard what James didn't want him hearing.

"You forgot your gloves … never mind that! You always have to touch things, haven't you? Where did you have them glued to this time? The wheel wrench?" Severus asked, lifting his eyebrow.

"Didn't get so far." James grimaced. "Not to mention that it wouldn't have been a problem then, Just would have had to take the thing inside the cabin and wait until the mess unfroze."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus cast a quick glance at the boy while he slowly led him on towards the house. Somehow like that, he had imagined the entire thing.

"So where?" He asked, paying more attention to his young friend's face, his voice back to being serious. There was a second until he got an answer.

"Well … at the handle bar of the tool loading space." James said, resigning, shrugging his shoulders. Well, he sure knew that Severus would find out anyway coming morning and daylight, when he inspected the truck closer.

"At the …" Unable to resist gazing back at the truck he frowned before he gazed back at James. "And how, in Merlin's name, have you gotten your fingers back _off_ there?" He demanded to know, but secretly he was just relieved that James was back in one piece. Even though he wasn't really sure about that, he would decide on that after he had James sitting inside the house and after he'd had a closer look at him, especially at his hand.

"Well, I've had the backpack with me, because of my cigarettes." James said and he huffed. Of course because of the cigarettes. "Well, and because of the player, and I've had a bit coffee left. So I've decided to pour it over the metal bar."

"The … the coffee!" He huffed, stopping the boy really now, his eyes again narrowed at the idiot. "One has to think of such a foolish idea, and I wonder that it even worked."

"Well … didn't, not really." James said, avoiding his eyes and he placed his hand below the smaller man's chin so that the fool had to look up at him. "Well … it froze over immediately.

"You are trying my patience, Potter." He growled in frustration. How could this screwball idiot show the nerve to play along with him. But then he shook his head, sighing. "I thought so." He said, calmer. "But damn, stop pissing my leg, Potter, and finally tell me – how have you gotten your hand free then?"

"I … I don't think you really want to know." James softly said and Severus thought to feel the shuddering coming from the boy.

He gazed at the young man for another moment longer, seriously, trying to judge him with his gaze, and he was sure that he already knew the answer to his question, an answer that had himself shuddering at the thought alone. Anyway he just nodded without saying anything more about it.

"What is wrong with the heating of the truck?" He then asked.

"Dunno." The boy answered. "I've had a quick look at it, but I didn't find any reason for not working and I didn't really have the time and the nerve to search for more."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Damn, were his fingers stiff and his right hand just hurt, as did his head. And still everything turned as if his surroundings tried to get him off balance, what the very ground itself finally seemed to manage the moment his knees gave way, even if they had seemed stiff like a board a moment before, they just buckled, gave way, and if Severus hadn't reacted so quickly, would have held him at the sleeve of his jacket, then he'd surely had the chance to have a look at the floor from a closer point of view.

"Didn't you eat anything at the middle store this morning?" Severus asked, shaking his head, knowing the young man beside him just too well.

"I never eat anything in the morning, you know that." James said and he definitely sounded irritated.

"I do know that." Severus hissed and for a moment he was startled, remembering that he didn't have a fool in front of him but a man that was much stronger than him in many regards – and sometimes very impatient, a man that could have quite a temper sometimes, as caring as he always was. "But didn't you at least pack a sandwich for your way?"

"Have." He sighed. "Big Bear packed me one into the backpack after he'd called me a bull-headed blithering idiot."

"And he's been correct!" Severus' voice now definitely sounded _very_ disapproving. "An honest answer, Potter, have you eaten _anything_ today, or rather yesterday?"

"Haven't." He lamely answered. "I just didn't think about it." Well, that was one of the things he definitely didn't wish speaking about and surely not now – and not with Severus.

"And the evening before yesterday when you arrived at the middle store?"

"I've been too tired then." He mumbled. "Just went to bed and fell asleep."

"How very responsible of you, Potter." Severus growled and this time he really looked up at the man, startled – and scared a bit. Of course he knew that Severus wouldn't hurt him, not intentionally at least, but the man really sounded very angry at him now. "Because I do know that neither have you eaten anything in Flat Hollow nor have you taken a sandwich for your way from there, you never do. In other words, you haven't eaten anything since at least three days, you idiot! And you are wondering why it is you feel dizzy? I do not, my _friend!_"

Since four days, if he thought about it, he corrected Severus – in his mind only. Because already Monday morning had he left the house without breakfast. He'd forgotten about the sandwich Severus had packed him and in the evening, when he'd reached the middle store – in most likely the worst snow storm he'd ever seen – well, he'd been exhausted enough to fall asleep on the bench in the trucker's barrack. He'd fallen asleep without anything. Of course Big Bear had pushed a sandwich into his hand the next morning, to take with him, but he'd been too tired, had forgotten about it. Most likely it still was in his backpack, not really edible anymore.

Anyway, he knew that the dizziness wasn't because of this. He'd had longer times without food at his aunt and uncle's, and he hadn't gotten dizzy then, not so soon at least, that was something that didn't affect him too much. The main problem was, that he just was overtired, exhausted and powered out – not to mention, still horrified at himself.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus pushed James on his shoulders through the front door, gave it a shove with his foot so that it clunked shut and then led the younger man over the corridor into the kitchen, pushed him down into his chair at the table before he went towards the kitchen board to take a small and old, dented tin can. Again he shook his head, took a handful of the dried herbs into a cup and poured hot water over them.

The idiot boy started to rub his hands, trying to somehow get them back to warmth but immediately he took a hold at his arm and kept him from that.

"Do not massage them." He growled darkly. "Wait until the blood has warmed up itself and starts flowing the way it should or you risk blood poisoning. You better get rid of the cold clothes. Now!" He then ordered, softly and with a calm voice but with a demanding voice anyway.

He just was angry. He had calmed down enough to see reason, to have a clear mind and to being able deciding what had to be done first and what would have some time and with this calmness he realized that – again – the idiot boy had been close to death out there. He would …

Well, he would do nothing, and he knew it. Because he knew that – if he forbade James to go on driving this blasted truck over the ice road, then he would destroy the boy.

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James did as Severus had told him without protest even, started opening the buttons of his shirt with stiff fingers. Normally he would hove protested against such an order, normally he was the one who would fight tooth and nail over _any_ order, even if he knew perfectly well that it was an order that was for his own good, even if it was ordered something he would have done anyway.

It was just that – he'd been ordered around so much in his youth and in his childhood, he was a man now, and he was his own man, he had to answer no one but himself and even if he might die one day because of his stubbornness, even then he was the only one he'd had to answer then.

It was different with Severus.

And it wasn't because Severus was just like this, demanding, not accepting contradiction, with his gaze and all, his dark and serious, sometimes stern eyes that could be so warm sometimes and so steely at other times, with his voice all velvet and smooth like silk, dark and deep, demanding at times and sarcastic at others. He was seldom at the receiving end of Severus' cold sarcasm, a warm sarcasm, yes, but this cold and dangerous sarcasm did he receive seldom from the man. But he had seen it, when others received it, Bastard – just for example, and it always gave him the shivers, had his blood running cold with fear.

And neither was it because Severus was twenty years older than was he, nor because he had been a teacher once, handling a horde of students of all ages.

"Let me help you, you fool." The man growled, taking his hands and getting them away from the fabric of his shirt – and suddenly he knew what it was that made him allowing Severus giving him an order – it was the absolute kindness and the gentleness the man handled him, James, with – a harsh kindness and a harsh gentleness, kindness and gentleness in his own way, but it was kindness and gentleness, Severus cared, and deeply so.

He barely saw the older man handling others aside from him and the boys with any kindness or gentleness, he was collected and neutral, indifferent and unreadable at the best and cold and sarcastic, not caring if he hurt people, at the worst. But he handled him, James, with a kindness and with a gentleness which he never before in his life had received and – well, taking a deep breath before releasing it he lowered his hands, allowed Severus to open the buttons on his shirt. Because Severus was right – he _was_ a fool. Had he just accepted Severus' offer, to come and help him with that blasted tire, then none of this would have happened.

Severus regarded James with a dark gaze of his black eyes while he opened the bloody boy's shirt, for now ignoring the trembling fingers that rested on the delicate thighs, ignoring the scars that ran over the thin chest – as few as they were, because he knew that James's back looked much, much worse than that.

James and he, they were sharing a bedroom after all, and not just since yesterday but since more than a year now. It was inevitable that one saw the other without a shirt during that time and not for the first time Severus pressed his teeth together when his gaze fell on James's chest and his shoulders, and he had to stay his hand to not run his fingers over the scars lightly. Never before had he touched them and never before had he been able to look at them so closely as he did now – and he remembered how he had seen them for the first time …

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**Summer 2002**

James was standing in the bedroom, his back turned towards the door while he was searching for a t-shirt from the wardrobe – just when Severus entered, as silently as always and James didn't notice him. He had just left the bathroom after he'd had a shower and he had just put on a new pair of Jeans. He'd need a t-shirt and socks, and then he'd be ready to go downstairs for breakfast – a cup of coffee and a cigarette, just what he needed to get a clear mind and to get awake finally, because the shower might have washed away dirt and sweat, but surely had not woken him up.

He hadn't slept too well last night and somehow he had the feeling that his thoughts were stumbling through his mind, way too fast, while at the same time if felt as if they were stumbling through a wall of cotton. He didn't really remember any dreams he might have had last night – and yes, dreams, because he knew that one didn't dream one dream during a night but several dreams that only lasted a few minutes, but anyway – he didn't remember any of them. He just knew that he hadn't slept too well, waking up during the night more than once and each time covered in sweat.

Severus entered the bedroom to get a pullover for Sam, seeing that the boy still didn't have enough clothes. They definitely needed to go shopping with the boy. He cast a short gaze at James who was standing by the wardrobe and then turned towards his own closet, but he stopped mid-step when his gaze fell upon his friend's back, unable to move, nearly unable to take another breath.

Of course he had known from the beginning on, from the very first day on when he had met James for the first time, back then on the back veranda, he had known about the scars wounding around James's slender wrists, and the scars on his lower arms. And he had seen the same scars later too, more than once, even if James had tried to hide them in the beginning, covering them with long sleeves.

And since all this time, since he knew James, since he was living together with him, he couldn't keep the anger from soaring through him, anger at Petunia, Lily's sister, anger at Dumbledore and anger at the ministry of magic – because he knew such scars, had seen such injuries more than once and he knew what had caused them, knew that they stemmed from ropes that had cut deep into the flesh on James's wrists.

And so he also had always known that James had been tied up once, that he either had tried to get out of these ropes until they had cut deeper and deeper into the flesh around his wrists – or that he had been hanging on these ropes and he rather did not dare imagining what of the two had been the case.

But now, for the first time since he knew James, his friend was standing in front of him with a bare upper body and when he saw the scars that ran over the bony back, crisscrossing the skin in several layers, his heart threatened to stop beating for a moment.

This kind of scars too he had seen already, and again more than once, and he knew what had cause them, most of them at least. Of the others that looked much worse and seemed much deeper, again he didn't dare imagining what had cause them and he gritted his teeth, pressed his lips together while he slowly took a step closer, his head lowered to one side in concentration while he couldn't help frowning disapprovingly.

James finally seemed to notice his presence, maybe had felt him standing there and startled he turned, looking over at Severus, horrified. His face lost every colour and for a moment he seemed unable to breath while he looked with wide green eyes at the older man, swallowing heavily, and his fingers started trembling. He knew that Severus had seen his back, he could notice it in his horrified gaze.

Quickly James slipped into the t-shirt he had taken from the wardrobe before he wordlessly and with his eyes cast downwards, as if he were ashamed of the scars, passed him, Severus, and left the bedroom.

On this morning at the kitchen table James – for the first time since long – tried to hide the scars on his wrists as good as possible, leaving his hands beneath the table before he, despite the warmth in the house, slipped into his cardigan – while he still avoided his gaze with which he watched his friend, with which he silently demanded an explanation.

James had felt the horror creeping up in Severus when he had seen his scars, as well as the anger and the rage – but he couldn't explain it to the man. How could he explain all of this that was past since many years now? How could he explain all of this what he had tried to push aside, which he had tried to forget like he had forgotten everything else?

No, he couldn't explain anything, because he had forgotten anything – except of that what he _wanted_ to forget.

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**The beginning of December 2003**

Severus had helped James out of his clothes and then took the pyjama from the oven when the younger male was sitting in front of him with just his shorts and socks, helping him to slip into them – or rather dressing the boy completely.

"Thank you, Sam." He softly said, casting a quick glance at the boy when he took the blanket Sam had hung beside the oven, just in case, and he wrapped the soft material around the thin and shivering form. Sometimes, when it mattered, then the boy was really thinking.

James allowed Severus to wrap the blanket around him without a word of contradiction, glad that he wasn't in the cold anymore and again without a word of contradiction he took the cup Severus was reaching him, pressed his cold fingers against the hot porcelain while his thoughts drifted away.

Damn, this hurt. His toes felt like pins and needles and his fingers hurt like hell too. Even his arms and legs hurt, now that he was in the warmth and the blood started to flow like it should again. He had though that the cold in his fingers and in his toes already was painful, but this here, the warmth that came back now, the cold had been a walk in the sunshine compared to this here – and damn, he still felt ill, he still was dizzy, and he still didn't think of what he had done or he needed to vomit.

Well, yes – of course he'd been hungry at one point or another, but he hadn't really realized it back then, and in Flat Hollow … he never ate anything in Flat Hollow, because _that_ would mean that he had to sit together with the other drivers there – and that was something, he avoided like the devil. He didn't like the crew from Flat Hollow.

However, on Wednesday he had still carried around his lunchbox from the day before in his backpack, but the feeling of hunger had left already and on Wednesday evening he'd been just falling into his bunk, tiredly, had fallen asleep at once. Anyway he was sure that his dizziness didn't come from that, but never mind, that was something Severus didn't need to know anyway, wouldn't be too pleasant.

But well, just as if he had challenged fate with this thought – Severus looked at him with his always so calm and piercing eyes and James knew – he wouldn't like what was to come. Severus' voice sounded serious upon his next question.

"A definite answer now, Potter – when _exactly_ was the last time you have eaten anything?" He asked.

"Uhm …" James made and despite the predicament he was in, it was satisfying anyway to know – not only Severus knew _him_ too well, but _he too_ knew the older man like he knew himself. That was called poetic justice then, wasn't it?

"Dunno." He finally answered. "Sunday evening? I think?"

As if Severus had expected this answer he shook his head, sighing.

A few years or so ago he would have gotten angry at such an answer, angry because hadn't been able to understand how any human being could be so carelessly with his own health. He would have scolded James, would have called him an idiot and would have tried to force him to eat something – with the only outcome that James' stubbornness would have piped up and the boy would have eaten then less than ever. He soon had learned about James' stubbornness and he knew – if James didn't want to do anything, whatever this anything was, then he just didn't do it and that definitely did go for things that would harm him – or safe him from harm.

He had learned that he needed to do things by the most complicated ways possible and the long way around – his mother would have said he'd go through a horse's ass to get to its mouth, but he had gotten used to James' strange behaviour and to his strange believes too, knew that he just had to leave him alone and so he just shook his head.

When the pain in his hands finally had subsided to just an uncomfortable crawling, James lifted the cup, sniffed at the hot drink and then grimaced before he put the cup back at the table. That were some herbs, whichever, and a lot of whiskey – and that hot!

"Drink it as long as it is hot or it won't work." Severus ordered but again he grimaced.

"The whiskey would be alright, if it weren't hot." James murmured suspicious. "But that herbs? What's in there? Old socks?"

"That – _Mr. Potter_ – is my special tea for stubborn young men who refuse help and nearly kill themselves in the act, and now drink!" Severus ordered, good naturally, leaning with his hands on the tabletop. "And in the meantime I'd like to have a look at your hand."

Again without a word of contradiction James did what Severus had told him and took a sip of the tea, again grimacing, but then he realized that it didn't taste _that_ bad – at least there was an immediate heat that ran through his stomach, a comforting heaviness in his limbs, and again, as if his muscles would act on their own, he reached his hand towards the older man, because he knew – Severus wouldn't harm him but cared about him.

Carefully and gently Severus freed the hand from the makeshift bandage and then took a look at James's palm, again his eyebrow went up, disapprovingly.

"Doc Carrington should have a look at that." He finally said, shaking his head. So he had been correct and James had pulled his hand off the metal. Damn! What had really happened out there? And how desperate had the boy been so that he had hurt himself like that? Surely James had known that it would hurt like hell! He really must have been about to freeze to death if he … damn! If he just had left despite James's words that he could do this alone.

Angry about himself Severus finally turned towards Sam.

"Go and get my box with the disinfectant, the healing salve and dressing material, it's in the cellar on my desk – but don't touch anything else!" He softly said. Merlin! Alone the thought of _how_ desperate the idiot surely had been, alone out there an in this situation, he felt ill to the stomach.

Sam reacted immediately, nearly panicky and Severus lifted his eyebrow at the boy. The brat definitely was shocked himself. Alright, the skin on James's bleeding palm was missing nearly completely, but it wasn't as bad as it looked like – at least he hoped so. Well, James would survive. And his hand would definitely heal much quicker and with less scarring if he could just use a healing spell – what however wasn't possible, seeing that James would end up in a panic attack if he did so.

"Thank you." He said, taking the box from Sam's hands, watching the boy seriously for another moment before he directed his attention back to James. The boy seemed alright again, and this here was more important right now, he could have a talk with Sam later.

James had emptied his cup of tea meanwhile and tiredly he looked up at Severus, seeing the man with the disinfectant, and he shook his head, his horrified gaze glued to the bottle in the older man's hand.

"No!" He whispered, horrified, with his free hand taking the wrist of the hand Severus was holding his own hand with, trying to somehow free his hurt hand from the tight grip. "You're not serious!"

"This has to be cared for, James." Severus answered, seriously, depositing the bottle of disinfectant at the table so that he had his hands free and took James's other hand, pulled it away from his wrist. "This will be a short burn, but then it will be alright and the wound is cared for properly." He tried to explain but immediately James had gripped his wrist again, trying to get out of _his_ grip.

"No!" The younger man called out, shaking his head, again trying to get Severus' fingers away from his wrist, again trying to wind and pull and twist his hurt hand out of his grip one way or another.

Well, he had hoped that the whiskey would do its trick and befuddle the boy, added to the calming draught he had put into the tea, but well, that had been false hope and with a frustrated sigh he tightened his grip.

"Damn, Potter!" He growled darkly. "If this here get infected then it will be even worse. Just let me do this here, then it is over!" He said, again taking James's hand and pulling it off his wrist. He knew very well that James reacted with panic to anything that concerned medication, doctors, bandages, salves or anything similar, whatever reason for, and he guessed that the bandages laying on the table were only half as bad as was the disinfectant he was holding in his hand.

Anyway, this just had to be done.

"Stop that, James!" He tried to get the young man on the chair who was acting like a small child, to see reason, one way or another. Damn! Concerning medical matters James just _was_ like a small child – just with the little difference that he would be able to get a small child to see reason, not so James, here his chances were – not existent even.

"No!" James however called out again, getting off his chair finally, maybe trying to use his own body weight – as little as it was to begin with – to get free this way.

"Potter!" Severus too got angry now, and he released James's hand, quickly stepped behind the boy and leaned with his lower arms on the bony shoulders, forcing him back on his seat. Most likely he wouldn't have needed to use his entire body weight, but well, better safe than sorry. He knew just too well what James was capable of when he was in a panic, the strength he was able to summon up then – or rather the acciental madic – and again he took the younger man's wrist in a tight grip, from behind him this time.

Quicker than James could react he had shifted his body weight to reach over, to take the bottle with the disinfectant with his free hand and he just sprayed the liquid all over the injured palm, not caring what else he was covering and not caring that most likely he was using more of it than was necessary.

"_Goddammit!_ Are you _crazy_?!" James called out, trying to squirm out of his grip, without success, and out of pure frustration the younger man took the plastic bottle from his hand and threw it against the opposite wall where it bounced off, fell to the floor and then rolled back to the table. What however wasn't so bad in the bloody boy's opinion clearly, as he just kicked it so that it hit the wall again. this time however it didn't roll back and Potter only could cast an angry gaze at the bottle as if he blamed it for the pain in his hand.

Well, Severus was sure that James's anger would now, as the bottle was out of his reach, be directed at him. He knew that this really had hurt and somehow James had to vent his anger, his pain and his frustration. So he was prepared for the boy going against him, maybe even physically – but nothing happened. instead James just sagged forwards, pulled his hand against his chest and Severus released his breath – and the wrist – with relief.

"Are you alright, James?" He asked, softly, pushing him up on his shoulders, looking at him seriously.

After a second or two during which James apparently needed to think about it, he nodded and again Severus sighed with relief.

"I am sorry, really, but this here was necessary." He finally said, just as softly as before, but again, James just nodded. "Just allow me to finish this so that I can get you to bed." He said and clenching his jaw he again took James's hand.

Carefully he wrapped it with the bandage material, a bit more professionally this time than James had done it, ignoring the pain filled hiss whenever James inhaled sharply, holding it his breath, while he took the teacup on the table with his good hand, gripping it tightly as if to cling to it. He just wanted to end this.

Finally he took the empty cup from James's good hand, put it back at the kitchen table and gripped the bony shoulders of his friend, pulled him up from the chair. He led him upstairs and into their bedroom, and gently pushed him down on his bed.

"Not a word." He softly said while he took the blanket and threw it over the smaller form. "Just sleep."

Well, this time James didn't give a word of contradiction and Severus was sure that he already was fast asleep even before his head touched the pillow. Smirking he took another blanket from the nearby armchair and covered the still form while he again shook his head.

Have fun, when Doc Carrington will visit tomorrow to have a look at James's hand. _He_ – only had used disinfectant. Doc Carrington would most likely apply a tetanus shot or something like that and he exactly knew James's reaction to _that_ because this particular catastrophe he had already witnessed once, though it had not been a tetanus shot.

Sighing he went back to the kitchen.

With a bit of luck that would be only in the late afternoon, or in the evening and so he had a bit of time left to prepare for the catastrophe, because he knew, it would be bruises and scratches on his and Doc Carrington's bodies by the time it was done.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Here and now**

_A small town and simple people._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be grateful if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

_please note that upon this chapter the story will be at hold for the time being …_

**House Cup:  
**

at the present time it looks like this:

509 Points - Slytherin

470 Points - Gryffindor

422 Points - Ravenclaw

217 Points - Hufflepuff


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